Hello Milo!
by Scruff the Rat
Summary: A series of one-shots about Milo Mahana, one of my OCs. Expect some interesting, heartwarming, and/or chaotic moments when this kid's thrown in the lives of Arnold, Helga, and their friends and family.
1. Sid

**Hiya, guys! Scruff the Rat is back! And with a new OC to introduce-Milo Mahana! Now, these are going to be more of a series of one shots instead of a full-blown story, but I wanted to just introduce my****character Milo to you guys first. His character still needs a wee bit of working on. However, I feel confident on how I want the little guy to be. By the way, I might introduce Bonnie from ****"Sharing" and few other OCs****of mine. You guys (and gals) just make sure to be on the lookout.**

**Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! is property of Craig Barlett and Nickelodeon Studios. All I own are my OCs.**

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><p><strong>Sid<strong>

"(Gulp) Uh, Milo…This is a good idea, right?"

Milo really had to resist smirking at how high-pitched Sid's voice became.

"Relax, Sid. Everything's going to work out just fine."

By "fine," Milo meant that he and Sid were going to survive the 1,000 feet drop of the tropical waterfalls.

Sid was skeptical…on second thought, scratch that.

Sid was full-speed panicking, despite the eight-year old's best efforts to calm him down.

"Hey, look at it this way," continued the younger boy casually, "would you rather take your chances with a bunch of river pirates who'd be more than happy to torture you until the end of time…"

Milo gestured to the darkness of the jungle from which he and Sid had emerged, the same darkness which seemed to be growing fuller of disgruntled yells and shouts with each passing second.

"Or…"

This time, Milo gestured to the roaring cascades.

"…jump over this waterfall, the rocks at the bottom of which would most likely, if not certainly, K.O you before you even get a chance to blink?"

At this point, Sid was basically struck silent, all previous terror gone, unable to find a counterargument against Milo's well-put question.

"Well," muttered the begrudging boy as he sheepishly lowered his eyes to the ground, "I guess I can't argue with that."

There was still some uncertainty in his eyes, though.

Ah, but that didn't deter the beaming Milo Mahana. No siree.

So with a thumbs-up and wink,

"Just close your eyes and think happy thoughts."


	2. Lila

**Okay, I don't know what came over me, but for some reason the idea of a Milo/Lila pairing crossed my mind while I was typing this up. I haven't the slightest idea how people are gonna take **

**this, but here it is anyway. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I...do...not...own...Hey Arnold! Period, period, period! That's Barlett's jig.**

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><p><strong>Lila<strong>

She hadn't meant to stare. She simply didn't.

Yet she still had.

…and he had noticed.

Lila truly did know better than to have been so rude.

So...why did she do it anyway?

In all seriousness, Lila really had no idea.

She knew it wasn't because how much the kid hung around Arnold.

No, this young woman, a full-fledged seventeen year old, had long ceased trying to gain the football-headed boy's affections, and, even to this day, has also been immensely relieved that he had eventually decided the same about her.

People could say whatever they wanted, but Lila knew she was no "skank" (as her friend Helga once said in the girl's defense). Her father raised her better than that.

So why was she continuing to gaze at the brown-skinned sophomore with the unruly black hair and deep sepia skin?

Was the reason his quiet demeanor?

Or was it the mischievous and worldly man that hid beneath this boy's exterior?

Lila knew the kid still had a ways to go before becoming a real man in the world…

But that didn't mean he wasn't becoming more of one everyday.

No, she could see it.

She could see it when he helped Arnold's Grandpa after the poor elderly man tripped on a poorly discarded chicken bone.

She could see it when he hoisted up his little sister so she could reach the spout of the water fountain.

She saw it when he hugged her, her head resting on his broad shoulder, her tears streaming down and ruining the young man's jacket (not that he seemed to care).

Lila put a hand to her cherry red hair.

She swore she could still feel the warmth of his hand on her head.

A wistful sigh escaped her lips.

'_I should know ever so much better than to make the same mistake twice.'_

Well, thrice if you counted Arnie…

"Hey Lila."

Startled, Lila spun around on the park bench she'd been thinking on (it had become her favorite place to think over her adolescent years).

There he was, all messy and unkempt from another day's toil in the school's art studio. He had paint smears and smudges on hand that seemed to faded significantly, though Lila could notice them if she squinted hard enough.

All Lila noticed was how the sunlight transmuted his skin from an average brown to a breathtaking coppery mocha. The luminosity of his smile seemed to blend in with the glow flawlessly.

Oh, there were so many ways Lila could have pointed out this detail, not at all unlike how Milo would notice a detail in his artwork without fail.

"Milo, I'm ever so certain standing in the sun like that won't do your skin much good. Would you like to sit with me? I'm just waiting for Arnold and Helga to finish their date at Slausen's."

Nope, like she told herself, she knew better.

The teenaged male gave a good-natured snort at her quip.

"Trust me, Lila. You know those two as well as I do. At the rate they're going, neither of us are gonna be seeing them until tomorrow morning—provided they won't have already taken that honeymoon to Paris Helga's been blabbing about."

This time, Lila was the one snorting…well giggling. Snorting just wasn't part of her character.

If Milo noticed her response, he didn't let on. Instead, he plopped down on the bench right next to Lila and unzipped his black backpack to search for a sketchbook.

That's when Lila got her big idea.

"Milo…?"

Pausing momentarily in his search, Milo looked to Lila with his inquisitive green eyes.

"What's up?"

"Umm…would you like to..."

Oh goodness, she couldn't say it!

"…show me some of your drawings? Helga's told me ever so much about how well you draw."

Most guys would have puffed their chests out at that accolade.

Milo simply smiled and nodded his head with an affirmative huff before he pulled out his trusty sketchbook.

But before his hand touched the front cover, it hovered in the air, the owner pausing to look back up at his…"audience" with a growing grin.

"Say Lila…how about I try drawing you next?"

Her breath escaped her the moment her ears caught that statement.

Yet somehow, Lila still managed to compose herself and smile flatteringly at the budding artist.

"Of…of course, that'd be just delightful, Milo!"

And so as her companion got to work outlining her body's outline and facial features, Lila's thoughts converged onto one conclusion.

'_This time, I'm going to let love come to me.'_


	3. Oscar

**Now it's everyone's favorite (or least favorite) boarder!**

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><p><strong>Oscar<strong>

"Hey, Bonnie's kid, you don't mind sharing that drumstick with your good-hearted uncle, do you?"

'_Bonnie's kid? I __**was**__ given a name at birth, you know.'_

Besides, calling Oscar "good-hearted" was a bit of a stretch.

Well, okay, it was a 20-yard stretch.

Regardless, Milo was not very keen on sharing his own food with his Czechoslovakian "uncle."

'_At least I think he's Czechoslovakian…'_

"Sorry, Uncle Oskar, I don't think chicken bones are part of an adult's diet."

Oscar was not deterred.

"But you shouldn't eat so much. Your little kid stomach might not be able to digest all that food."

A raised eyebrow was all Milo had for a reply to that counterstatement.

"I'm still a growing boy, though. I need enough meat in my diet if I'm going to grow up right…unless of course you want me to stay small for eternity."

A chuckling sound came from Oscar's right.

"Oh boy, the kid got you good, Kokoschka."

Alright, how could the kid _not_ smirk at that compliment?

Sure he wasn't the boastful type, but a little praise here and there never hurt anyone, right?

After sending Ernie a glare full of irritation, Oskar got back to hounding the poor kid.

"What's wrong with being so small? Your mother, Arnold, Ernie, and Abner deal with that just fine."

A wide-eyed (and now ducking) Milo, _'Wrong choice of words…!'_

Oscar had no time to dodge the sudden barrage of food that had come upon him from across the table.

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><p><strong>Need I say it? The button down here practically says it for me.<strong>


	4. Harold

**If there's one thing I _don't _want Milo to be, it's a Gary Stu. (For those of you aren't familar with the term, a "Gary Stu" is basically a male version of a Mary Sue. Maybe that's why the two terms rhyme? XD) **

**Anyway, I know being nice isn't synonymous with being "obssessively perfect to a fault" (heck, look at Arnold and even Lila). However, I want show a little snarkiness in the little kid...just to deepen his character.**

**Disclaimer, right. (Clears throat) I do not own Hey Arnold! All its elements, including the characters, belong to Craig Barlett. All OCs, however, belong to me.**

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><p><strong>Harold<strong>

"Hey, Arnold, what's with the little kid? We came here to play baseball, not babysit some snotnose brat."

Arnold and Milo were currently standing on the edge of Gerald Field, the game being set for the afternoon.

Our football-headed hero could only mutter warningly in annoyance,

"Harold…"

_This_ was why Arnold was dead set against bringing Milo here. The second-grader could handle Oskar's complaints, he could take Grandpa's teasing, and Arnold swore he could even handle Helga's sarcasm.

Only one problem: those were all people Milo was used to.

Harold wasn't one of them, so Arnold wasn't sure how the 7-year old would respond.

Bonnie could've have come as moral support (physical even if the situation had called for such) but she was stuck working double overtime at the public library.

"Ignore him. Harold's always saying a bunch of stuff he doesn't mean."

Arnold just hoped the younger kid wouldn't react with the same temper that his mother was well known for.

There was already enough steam with Helga and Harold on the field.

Much to Arnold's surprise, Milo gave a snort.

"Nah, don't sweat it, Arnold," the younger boy replied.

He motioned his index finger to have Arnold lean down so their heads were level.

"That guy," Milo whispered clandestinely in Arnold's ear, "he's just ticked at me 'cuz of this race we had yesterday."

"Really?"

Milo nodded and led Arnold to the benches before he continued with his words.

"Yeah, I got to the prize minutes before he could."

"And… what was the prize?" asked Milo's "big brother" reluctantly.

Knowing Milo, Arnold was a tad worried about what had been at stake.

"Oh, just a chocolate bar, nothing big. He pouted and grumbled a bit about losing, but that's not what's got him acting so sour today."

The wise football-head sure hoped that his unofficial little brother had shown good sportsmanship. He crossed his arms, giving himself a heavy air of sternness.

"Then why _is_ Harold so upset with you?"

Milo must have noticed the suspicion in Arnold's tone because he quickly held up his hands in defense.

"Easy there. I all did was give the big lug half of the chocolate, you know, to show there were no hard feelings."

Wait…what?

"And … Harold got upset over _that_?"

Okay, now Arnold was only getting confused.

"Sure did," confirmed the dark-skinned boy with a nod.

"He said, and I quote,"

Puffing up his cheeks, pouting his lips, and then forming a scowl on his face, Milo proceeded with his imitation of a certain "Pink Boy."

"'Hey you're not supposed be at all nice when you win!'"

Okay, Arnold had to admit. He was pretty impressed with Milo's impersonation abilities. The kid sounded almost like Harold—not perfect but definitely close.

"Uh…I'm not?" Milo continued, now acting out the aftermath of yesterday's race.

"Course not! You're supposed to rub it in my face. That's what winners do!"

Arnold could only do a facepalm and sigh.

Yep, typical Harold…

Speaking of which…

"Hey Arnold! How much longer are you gonna have to babysit? We got a game here."

Both boys immediately turned their heads towards the source, not that they needed to be reminded of who the source obviously was.

Harold was impatiently tapping his foot, his arms crossed and a scowl not too dissimilar from that of Milo's impression.

Arnold resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Milo resisted the urge to smirk devilishly.

'_Oh, I'm a baby, eh? Well then, this 'baby' will just have to put you back in your place, won't he?'_

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><p><strong>Yep, Harold is in for it now! And unless you want to join him, I suggest you review. ;)<strong>


	5. Rhonda

**This time, P.S. 118's school-renown gossip queen will be the one to take a crack at young Mr. Milo!**

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><p><strong>Rhonda<strong>

"Excuse me, you little shrimp! Who gave _you_ permission to touch _my_ dress?"

Said shrimp looked up and behind himself.

All the while a certain Harold Berman's crowing could be heard in the background, a few other voices of laughter soon joining at the young boy's expense.

Not that the owner of the disgruntled sounding voice (or Milo for that matter) seemed to pay their classmates any mind.

Looking down on the dark-skinned boy was a thoroughly displeased fair-skinned girl with bowl-styled black hair and in black and red clothing. Behind her was the kind brown-skinned insect enthusiast in blue and with yellow, braided hair— the girl Milo had met the other day.

Apparently, she and this chick were best friends…and Milo had accidently disrupted one of their conversations when he tripped unwittingly and unceremoniously over one of the girl in red's shoes.

Sure enough, there were three noticeable scuff marks on the right shoe—the shoe Milo had tripped on.

The dress, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine save for a few rumpled spots left behind by Milo's fingers.

'_Oh boy,' _thought an eye-rolling Helga G. Pataki, watching with apparent disinterest from the perspective of her desk. '_Look whose path Sparky crossed __**this **__time.'_

Despite an indifferent air, though, Helga couldn't deny at the bottom of her heart a sort of concern for the recluse.

If there was one weapon Rhonda had that could probably rival Old Betsy and the Five Avengers, that very weapon was quite simple:

Words

A few of those, if used just right, could bring even the most steel-hearted of people down far more than a notch.

Imagine what the effects would be if the target was somebody as soft-hearted as Mi-

Helga shook her head vigorously, as if she were trying to will the apprehension over the boy's situation away.

'_Whoa, now, Helga! Chill for a sec. You're talking about Milo here. He may not a little angel, but he doesn't hound around for a slugfest like Pink Boy back there. Heck, he's almost a shorter, football-headless, brown version of Arnold. The kid'll know how to bail himself out.'_

Besides, Helga couldn't risk making a scene for some munchkin, no matter how much the little guy had grown on her. That sort of action on her part would raise too many eyebrows.

"Sorry."

The blonde Pataki almost facepalmed the minute she heard that laconic apology.

'_Oh…swell, my paranoia just __**had **__to be right this time. Thanks a ton, irony_!'

Seriously, if Helga could have been able to freeze everybody in time except herself and Milo just for the purpose of slapping him in the face and advising him (in her own assertive approach, of course) about Rhonda's relentlessness towards the younger students (actually…towards basically anyone the Lloyd deemed poorer, less fashionable, or just plain geeky)…

She would've gladly done that a thousand times over.

And the worst part…?

Milo had apologized in what the Helga assumed and he obviously hoped was an innocent tone.

The girl in red looked as if she had been slapped.

"'Sorry'? 'Sorry!' Is that all you could come up with?"

Wow…her voice almost rose to a fever pitch!

Helga, being used to Rhonda's dramatics, could only eye-roll.

Milo, on the other hand, was impressed, despite the tense situation at present.

'_Man, maybe she really __**should**__ be an actress. I bet she'd make billions in horror movies with a scream like that,' _he mused momentarily.

Before the young coal-colored haired female continued, though, she quickly regained her composure; easy breaths soon replaced the harsh exhaling and inhaling that had just been dominant a few seconds ago.

"Oh brother," muttered Helga.

She turned to the Oriental girl in blue sitting in the desk to her left—Phoebe. Like Helga, she, too, had been watching the scene taking place, although her concern for Milo was understandably far more obvious than that of her companion in pink.

"Head ups Pheebs. Looks like Princess over there's ready to preach again."

Rhonda, now with her hands akimbo to her hips,

"If you're going to seek forgiveness from Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, you're going have to try something more eloquent than 'Sorry.'"

Rhonda even topped off her mild-mannered, though still snobbish, statement with a wagging finger raised and her eyes closed in a condescending expression.

Milo only gave a blank stare and two blinks before he gave a shrug and responded in a frank tone,

"What kind of forgiveness do you expect me to 'seek' for bumping into you?"

'_Criminy, kid! How much further do ya wanna dig that hole of yours? You're already deep enough in it as it is!'_

Seriously, this kid was just impossible!

Well, that much _was_ true.

However—

Rhonda, clearly outraged, was just about to give another snotty retort before Milo continued.

"People are gonna bump into us just as much as they're gonna talk about us. I can't see why anyone would want to get worked up on little stuff like that...so, instead of letting the little things control you, why not just gloss them over and move on? You'll have plenty of other chances to have accidents before you die anyway."

The whole class, which had been riveted on the confrontation since its beginning, was now as silent as an ancient black-and-white movie.

Most of all, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd…was speechless to say the least. Obviously, she had never been spoken to so forthrightly by anyone...besides Arnold of course.

Then again, this little munchkin did practically live under the same roof as Arnold.

Still… Rhonda felt very disarmed in terms of her verbal prowess.

"I-I…I…well, I…"

Milo dismissed her next words with a noncommittal wave of his left hand.

"Eh, I'm just saying that sweating over incidents like this is no way to live—simple and sweet," he finished nonchalantly with a half-smile.

With that said, Milo proceeded to pass by a stunned Rhonda and an equally shocked (though also impressed) Nadine.

He didn't notice the shocked stares of all his older classmates either, not even Helga's.

'_One last thing, though…'_

"By the way…," said the young boy, turning his head to face Rhonda, who, still dumbstruck, somehow managed to focus her eyes on him in response.

"Your dress looks just fine."

By some sort of miracle, Rhonda was still able to get a few intelligent words out in edgewise.

"Um…thank you, uh…"

"Milo. Milo Mahana," was the grinning young man's cordial greeting.

Before Rhonda even had a chance to recollect her own self enough to respond in longer sentences, Milo gave her a casual two-finger salute as he walked off to his desk.

"Anyway, we better high-tail ourselves back to our seats. School's about ta kick in."

"R-right…"

As the school bell rung on cue, however, Milo couldn't help but notice Arnold radiating a proud beam in his direction.

"What, I got something on my face? Or am I just too handsome to look away from?"

The dark-skinned lad sounded like he was joking, a few chuckles managing to escape him.

Arnold simply rolled his eyes at his "little brother's" attempts to avoid conversation about what just transpired.

He could see right past the younger boy's charade, though…

And so could Helga.

Speaking of which…

'_Oh brother…always gotta be a joker, huh Sparky?'_

All of a sudden, Milo passed her by, his eyes closed as he contently hummed a familiar tune all the way to his seat.

The blonde simply shook her head in bemusement.

Yep, that kid was _definitely_ impossible.

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><p><strong>I really hope Milo doesn't seem too Gary-Stu. I just want him to be somebody who would rather leave a fight than participate in it. Besides, I kind of wanted to test out Rhonda in all her melodramatic glory.<strong>

**Rhonda: Well, I never! **

**Helga: Oh, right Princess! Have you even looked at the show, for crying out loud?**

**Rhonda: As a matter of fact, I have Helga...and I will let you know, right now, that Rhonda Wellington Lloyd is no drama queen. Craig simply wanted to...accentuate my exquisite personality.**

**Helga: (rolls her eyes)**

**Me: Yeah...keep telling yourself that. Anyway, folks, you know what to do.**

**Me, Helga, Rhonda: Review, review, review!**


	6. Helga

**Woops, forgot to add a disclaimer last time!**

**I don't own Hey Arnold! at all, including its characters. Milo, however, is mine.**

**(Glomped by Milo)**

**Me: Not like that!**

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><p><strong>Helga<strong>

"OOF!"

Before Milo knew what just hit him (or least blocked his way), he landed flat on his back on the hallway floor, the backpack now lying at his side.

The poor boy sat up on the floor and placed a hand to his ringing head, eyelids closed in discomfort.

'_Ugh, now I know how a church bell feels on Sunday.'_

"Criminy, watch where you're going Foot—"

That voice…

Ignoring his aching noggin, Milo managed to open his eyes and not gasp in shock at the sight of a stunned and seated Helga G. Pataki—a Helga G. Pataki who was actually looking more annoyed than angered.

She must had either dropped something or been tying her shoes for her head to have been low enough to meet Milo's.

"Oh joy. It's Sparky again."

With that said, the disgruntled blonde girl put a hand to her forehead as if to fight an upcoming headache.

"My goodness, are you both alright?"

Milo craned his neck out to see past Helga.

Lo behold, there was Phoebe, peering at both her friends to see if they sustained any injuries.

'_She doesn't have to be so worried about us. The worst that bonk could give us are a few head bruises.'_

"Sheesh, do I have to look forward to crossing paths with both you _and_ Arnoldo, now? Enough run-ins like this and my head's gonna split open like a coconut!"

"Better keep out of each other's way then, huh? Otherwise, we're both going to end up with concussions."

Milo rubbed the tender spot on his forehead, but still managed to utter out a chuckle.

All the kids around him gasped in shock.

No one—_no one _had ever spoken to Helga in such a colloquial tone—ever!

Helga, with a sigh, "Oh perfect…"

Now she had to do damage control.

The brown-skinned boy, however, wasn't even aware of what was coming next. He was still too busy nursing his aching head.

"Dude, seriously, though, you've got one hard – Whoa!"

"Helga!"

This exclamation of alarm from the Oriental girl had resulted from the addressed grabbing Milo by the scruff of his shirt and "escorting" him to her "office."

Holding a finger to stop Phoebe from interfering, Helga promptly strode into the closet, Milo in tow, and shut the door.

**HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!-HEY ARNOLD!**

Once again, everything was at a pace Milo couldn't catch up with.

One moment he was in the hallway with Helga.

The next thing he knows, he's unceremoniously deposited on a crate in the janitor's closet, the door to this surprisingly spacious room apparently sealed shut (if the sound of the lock fastening was any indication).

All of a sudden, he heard a whoosh sound somewhere behind him.

Turning around on the crate, Milo noticed Helga at her "desk" (actually just an overturned file cabinet), the girl in pink reclined in her chair and her feet crossed and propped up on the said desk. Her hands were similarly crossed as well.

The Pataki girl was not pleased.

Milo,_ 'Okay…now what?'_

Milo severely doubted he was in for a beating.

Helga had been acting far too composed so far, even if she did look sourly irked.

'_But for how long?'_ questioned Milo's consciousness worriedly.

The young boy shook his head roughly.

'_Great, now Arnold's pacing around in my __**head**__.'_

Milo rarely ever shrugged off Arnold's concern, concern that almost always had a good reason at its foundation.

The problem was that there was continually an impression in Milo's head about that concern—and not a very comforting impression in fact.

'_I can take care of myself. Trust me.'_

Is assuring your safety to somebody in your head considered insane by the way? Well, Milo didn't think so.

Helga apparently didn't either…but her patience for Milo's spacing out was wearing thin at this point.

**SNAP—SNAP – SNAP **

"Huh?" muttered the absent-minded first grader.

Fortunately, for Milo's sake, the Pataki girl shot straight to the point.

"Alright, listen up, Sparky. You were right on the spot before about us needing to stay out of each other's way."

Milo, to his credit, nodded smartly, showing Helga that he understood.

"But these little "run-ins" of ours…?" Helga made sure to emphasize the word "run-ins" with her fingers.

"People are starting to get suspicious…especially a certain football head in particular..."

A gape mouth was Milo's response before the brown child smartly closed his mouth and nodded once again, this time more seriously.

Seven-years old or not, Milo was not the type of person who missed details easily…at least when he had enough time on his hands.

Never did the whispers and rumors about his and Helga's untimely collision courses escape his ears.

He had heard statements that seemed realistic enough, others that were a tad far-fetched, and still others that were flat-out bogus.

Most of all, though, Milo always noticed the apprehensive stare in Arnold's eyes, the same stare whenever the dark-toned child's mother viewed the interactions between her only son and Ernie Potts.

The apprehension, of course, was understandable.

Helga, like Ernie, was not a force with which to be trifled. She could easily take down somebody as large as Harold and barely have a bruise from doing so.

As such, Helga was a danger to all those smaller than her (minus Phoebe, of course), and Arnold, ever since Milo had started school at P.S. 118 this year, had done everything reasonable in his power to keep his "little brother" out of the blonde girl's warpath.

Yet, now here Milo was, conversing with the "iron-fisted queen of the fourth grade" herself (at least that title was what Helga was given by her classmates) as if they were potential business partners.

She really didn't seem as intimidating now as before.

But she _sure_ knew how to talk to people.

"…Which is why I propose we make a deal…"

Milo's eyebrows edged considerably at these words.

"What kind of deal if I dare ask?" he asked warily but with a trace of interest.

"Short, simple, and sweet—you come and work for me—that ought to keep things hush-hush. Frankly, my reputation's on the fritz, kid, and I can't cream ya since the ol' Football Head would never let me hear the end of it. So consider yourself lucky."

Whoa, they really _were_ like business partners!

Milo, to his benefit, did not question Helga's need to not give Arnold ample reason to despise her…even though questioning would have been unnecessary.

Especially with Milo's background info on the blonde girl…

But back to the present…!

Milo, enjoying the business-style atmosphere of this entire arrangement, tucked his right leg under his left leg perpendicularly, propped his elbows on his legs, and allowed his chin to rest on his clasped hands.

'_If only I had a suit, a fake beard, and a ponytail. I could be making a mean cosplay of Xanatos right now.'_

Putting that thought to the back of his mind (for now), Milo peered inquisitively at Helga, who was now sitting up straight and also had her hands clasped, although they still rested prostrate on the cabinet.

"So let me see if I follow. You, Helga G. Pataki, want me, Milo Mahana, to come work for you. If I _were_ to agree, what line of work would I expect?"

Helga answered immediately. She had been anticipating that question.

"Top-secret work, behind-the-scenes stuff, all that jazz— basically speaking, aside from Phoebe, you'd be my third pair of eyes."

"Mmm-hmm, and what sort of limitations would I have to respect?"

If this negotiation was anything like a business deal, there had to be a catch.

A smirk deviously evolved from Helga's frown. Her hands, meanwhile, were still clasped together.

"That, my boy, is where the simplicity of being a kid comes in. Basically, all you got to know is this: one word gets out about my operations..."

Helga cracked her knuckles ominously.

Yep, always a catch…

Milo, to his own credit, didn't even flinch in the slightest.

"And if I were to decline…what then…?"

"You'd get off scot-free, of course. Course, I'd also have to make you look like you've been beaten within an inch of your life and, in case you haven't noticed, there's not a lot of material for a cover-up like that."

Indeed, Milo duly noted the sparseness of the closet.

"Hmm, you make a good point. I'm assuming you have no other alternatives, then."

"Aside from torturing as much as I do Arnoldo…? No…at least none that are easy…"

A playful snort escaped Milo when he heard this statement.

"As if being a part of your crew is going to be any easier…"

Surprisingly – or not surprisingly as far as Milo figured—Helga gave more of a grin than a smirk.

"See, Sparky? That's why you're better off joining. Not to put down your "brotherly love" for Arnoldo or anything, but you have got to branch out and meet other people. Arnold and Geraldo aren't the only people out there. Plus, hanging around the Football Head too much is going to turn you into a carbon copy of him. Trust me, kid, that is _not_ a situation you need happening."

For the first time since this meeting began, Milo was truthfully and genuinely shocked.

'_Turning into a carbon-copy of Arnold…?'_

Dear mercy…he had never thought of that!

Then again…maybe he did before. If he did, though, he either simply didn't understand the ramifications of that thought and shrugged it off—

…Or he did understand but believed in his own willpower enough to shrug the thought off regardless.

What if that willpower wasn't enough, though?

Did Milo truly want to be Arnold's shadow?

'_Like hell if I do! I'm me, no one else! And Arnold…'_

Milo stopped right there.

Arnold…the one the younger boy always looked up to…the one with who Milo could have a normal conversation, away from the madness of their "extended family"…the one who wanted Milo to grow up by his own accord…

Guilt suddenly surged through him. How could he ever think anything negative about his own sibling?

'_But Helga's still right…You __**are**__ you.'_

Wait… that conscience again…

'_You'll always be Milo Mahana—a great drawer, a funny person…and a great friend. But if Arnold ever wants you to follow his example …it's because he just wants the same for you as Helga does.'_

Helga…

…Speaking of which, to Milo's benefit, had been silently watching the boy during his mental struggle…

The only empathy that she had for the boy, though, was in her thoughts.

'_Poor kid, believe it or not, I get where you're coming from.'_

Her face, in contrast to such tender thought, was set in solid stone.

So imagine her surprise when the dark-skinned boy abruptly grinned like a Cheshire Cat and yet still managed to maintain a level tone as he spoke.

"Miss Pataki…I'll let you know straight off the bat…Arnold may have his flaws…he is definitely a wet blanket…and yeah he's got one heck of a weird head…"

Milo's grin never wavered.

"…but he will never turn his back on a family member."

One finger ascended to point at Helga resolutely.

"Remember that."

Stunned…

Helga was stunned.

She always had an inkling that Milo was every bit just a one-in-a-million kid as Arnold.

She just never knew how.

"Well, Miss Pataki, as tempting as your offer is…I'm afraid I must decline. I prefer to be a guy on his own side—a lone wolf so to speak."

Without further ado, Milo hopped off the crate, waltzed over to Helga's cabinet, and reached out a hand to show the blonde that there were no hard feelings.

Helga, of course, needed a few moments to let all of Milo's words sink in.

When those words finally did, though, Helga had herself a huge, genuine smile.

'_Wow, this kid's got some serious gumption.'_

Of course, there was still the matter of…

"And the others…? Well, I'll handle them the way I know best. You…? Well, I let you decide…sounds fair?"

Helga donned a confident grin and half-lidded look before standing up and pumping Milo's hand with a hearty handshake.

"You, kid, drive a serious bargain. Alright, just because you've impressed me, I'll let you go. But, uh, tomorrow, don't say I didn't you."

With a brisk huff and then an even more brisk spring in his step, Milo turned to the door and showed himself out, shutting the door promptly behind him.

The blonde Pataki girl, now by herself, could only shake her head in bemusement.

"Welp, looks like ol' Helga here's gonna have to keep her head high from now on."

No joke...

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><p><strong>Okay, I desperately hope I portrayed Helga accurately here especially in the end. I made the mistake of letting her become out of character in one of my stories. I just hope I didn't repeat my mistakes.<strong>

**Anyway, don't forget to review!**


	7. Arnie

**I don't own Hey Arnold!**

**Get it? **

**Got it? **

**Good!**

* * *

><p>"What are you drawing?"<p>

SNORT

Milo, who, up until now, had been by himself in the boardinghouse kitchen, looked up from his sketchbook and saw Arnie wearing the usual emotionlessly blank expression.

One eye blinking at a time…

A skin-tone the same shade as a grey ball of lint…

Oh, let's not forget the uncanny and (disturbing) resemblance this guy shared with a certain-and definitely more popular—Football-Head.

Anybody else would have shuddered at_ that_ face.

Milo…?

He gave a big grin and patted a hand on the spot to his left to motion Arnold's wayward cousin to join him. Arnie happily complied...well at least as happily as Milo could actually tell.

"I'm trying to come up with some ideas for a new villain, but I've hit a drawing block. You got any ideas? I know I want this villain to be a chick, but I can't decide what to base her off of."

The younger boy's brow furrowed as he explained this situation of his.

"Happiness…"

That word, ironically enough, had come from Arnie.

'_What the—'_

Milo's raised eyebrows and glanced inquiringly at the blank-faced 9-year old.

"Well, most villains are based on dark stuff, right?"

Shifting his face to Milo's direction, Arnie continued his explanation, still no expression giving his thoughts away.

Nodding his head in comprehension, Milo gestured for Arnie to go on.

"Maleficent, (snort) Venom, Darth Vader, (snort) Voldemort—a lot of villains are color coded, so it'd be pretty hard to miss them."

"Too many color-coded if you ask me…," griped Arnie's companion. In spite of his own tone, though, Milo, as far as Arnold's cousin could tell, was really getting into the conversation.

"Exactly… (Snort)… Plus, some cultures view women as life-bearers since they're the ones who give birth. You'd really turn heads if you twisted that view around. That's why I think you should base your new villain—"

Arnie stopped right there, expecting his younger acquaintance to follow through. Milo did not skip a beat.

"'—on happiness?" finished the baffled 7-year old.

Before the boy had a chance to question Arnie any further, said farm boy continued on.

"Yeah, just think for a moment. (Snort) Most bad guys may want revenge, world domination, or just plain destruction. Other times, what they want might be too much of something—too much power, too much wealth, too much fame-"

Milo's eyes suddenly widened as realization finally sunk in.

'…_or sometimes too much joy…'_

Then, almost immediately, a pencil's tip was dancing straight across and all over the surface of a page of fresh, snow white paper.

In the middle of drawing an outline, however, Milo paused momentarily to give Arnie a grin of gratitude.

"Thanks, Arnster!"

Arnie, disinterestedly "(Snort) Yeah, sure…"

With all the thanks stated and over with, the brown-toned artist proceeded with his upcoming masterpiece.

Ah, but Arnold's cousin apparently had a few more words to share…

"Why?"

Once again, Milo raised his eyes to face Arnie, only this time, the action was in confusion.

"Why? What are you taking about?"

For the first time since anyone in Hillwood had actually known Arnie, the country boy suddenly gave a slow but heavy sigh, which seemed to ease down the indifferent air around him.

Just a bit…

"You never have a problem around me. You never bat an eyelash at me whenever I come over. You never freak out or get grossed out when I show off the lint I've collected. (Snort) Even when I read off the ingredients of foodstuffs, you shrug off or ignore whatever I do like it's no big deal."

Throughout this unexpected confession, Milo couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt bubbling up.

"Are you…um…upset that I haven't been paying you attention so much?" Milo started hesitantly, concerned about hurting the guy's feelings.

'_Hey, just because he doesn't express emotion, that doesn't mean he has none.'_

"Nah… (Snort) you just treat me like you treat everybody else. Your mom does the same thing. Everyone else…? They either just shudder or back away from me. Even Arnold gets a little freaked out when he's around me."

A widened pair of eyes was a **not** the response Milo gave to those words.

His actual response was a shake of the head.

A clear sign of disappointment—well familiar disappointment but still…

'_Oh brother, Arnold, do you have to be so…so sensitive?'_

Realizing there was still another person in the kitchen besides himself, Milo once again looked towards Arnie.

"Look, Arnie, you can't help being the way you are. Part of you was born like that,"

Milo, though he had now closed his eyes, raised his gaze to the ceiling.

"… and the other part is because of what life's thrown at you."

Out of the blue, an interesting idea than sprang into the insightful child's head, the boy opening his eyes back open and giving a smile in consequence.

A raised eyebrow from Arnie was all the response Milo needed to continue.

"You know what? You're just like Quasimodo! Both of you are actually good guys deep down."

Believe or not, Milo was telling the truth.

He knew, of course, that Arnie wasn't perfect.

Hey, though, since when was any human perfect, anyway?

However, the younger boy had also seen Arnold's cousin have moments of which the other folks of Hillwood never took notice.

Arnie had given a piece of uneaten bread to a starving dog.

He once removed a kid's kite from a tree (although he, Milo and Bonnie, the last two of whom had been walking by at the time, and the kid were the only witnesses of that feat).

And all those times people would mutter the worst of insults behind his back…

Arnie never retaliated, not even gave off as much as a glare.

'_He doesn't have to worry about losing self-control. He can take whatever the world's got to throw at him…and yet he'll always stay standing in the end.'_

All of a sudden, Milo sensed brewing envy inside of himself.

'_Am I actually…jealous that's Arnie's so hard to read?'_

Maybe that envy was aimed towards Arnie's lack of facial expression. After all, the face was a prime indicator of emotion.

Rid the face of that emotion, and you might as well as be trying to watch a rock weep.

'_Why can't I be strong like that?'_

Arnie, however, never noticed the heavy expression on the younger child's face and thus responded to the last words the boy had said.

"You know, what you said makes a lot of sense. Actually, I think me and Quasimodo are more alike than you might think."

"Oh, how so…?"

"Like you said, we're both mistreated because of what we are, but…"

Arnie turned his oblong head in the younger boy's direction.

His words had Milo's full attention.

"We also have friends that stick by us, people we can share our emotions with. I guess that's why I feel happier when I talk to you like I am right now."

Whoa…

Did Milo just hear correctly?

Milo shook his head as if to correct that thought.

Nope, he heard Arnie just fine.

The emotions Arnie's words evoked—those were what made the kid shell-shocked.

In effect, the subject of Arnie's warm words rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, all the while doing his best to hide the crimson blush on his cheeks.

"Oh…heh, glad I could help then," Milo murmured modestly.

Arnie nodded slowly but deliberately.

"Yeah, I'm actually starting to see why Arnold likes having you around so much. You just seem to make others feel right at home."

"Well, I do what I can, I guess. Listen, though, Arnie, everybody's got a weird side, even Arnold. I don't see why you should be any different."

"Thanks. (Snort)"

Silence now reigned in the presence of the farm boy.

Getting the message, Milo nodded his head in return and went back to his sketchbook intently.

He never noticed the diminutive but content smile growing on Arnie's face.

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><p>Review please!<p> 


	8. Arnold

**I don't own Hey Arnold! Happy reading!**

* * *

><p>Things had<em> not<em> been going the way Arnold had hoped.

Milo, usually the most observant and quiet person our blonde hero had ever met, had suddenly grew a rebellious streak and partook in the food-fight raging in the cafeteria.

Right now, the two boys were taking a short break from the clean-up assigned to them and the rest of the entire fourth-grade student body by order of an infuriated Principal Wartz.

Neither had spoken a word to the other ever since the punishment had been set. Well, at least until…

"Hey…Arnold,"

Attention caught, the addressed shifted his oddly shaped head to look at the shorter, darker-skinned boy seated beside him on one of the cafeteria chairs.

"Sorry about what I did back there."

Arnold could only shake his head in resignation.

"It's—(he sighed) – alright… kind of."

This time, Arnold's face took on an air of guilt,

" Actually, Milo, I should be sorry, too; I acted like...like…"

Oh, which words would be the best to say?

"…an unnecessary version of Helga?" offered the copper-toned tyke with a lopsided grin.

"Right," nodded the football-headed guardian in response to Milo's oddly appropriate quip.

"It's just," continued Arnold with some hesitation, "…your mom worries for you a whole lot and she really has faith in me that I'll keep you safe."

He shifted his eyes to Milo.

"She won't always be there to look after you."

Reluctantly, the addressed boy nodded. He really couldn't argue with Arnold's words, not that arguing with Arnold was near to impossible.

The keyword was _near._

"But neither will you, Arnold. She knows I can handle some problems. She wants me to learn independence now, so I don't end up being so needy when I'm grown up. That's why she tries her best to stay out of the way of whatever I'm doing unless she has a solid, good reason."

Slowly but surely, Arnold nodded in assent. Milo's words had a ring of truth to them.

"And you know what? You're right; you _should_ be able to handle yourself…but that's not what you proved here, though, was it?"

As the meaning of those words sunk in, Milo could hear his precocious nature—which sounded suspiciously like Bonnie—agreeing with Arnold.

'_Yeah, there were __**definitely**__ better ways you could have handled the situation.'_

He still remembered how his mother would joke how his need to be wild was kind of her fault, as well as that of his late biological father.

'_Yeah right, like you can use her sense of humor to excuse yourself from going ape in a food fight.'_

Oy vey… Mom was right even she was only present as a conscience.

Sighing in defeat, Milo, once again, shifted his eyes to Arnold.

" I guess I just don't want to admit I can't handle everything the world slugs at me."

Nodding to show understanding, the older football head gestured for the boy to continue.

"So…I also guess I can't blame her _or_ you for being so da—dang protective of me," murmured the younger child begrudgingly but honestly.

Milo _really_ had to watch his wording when Arnold was around.

Regardless, Arnold couldn't resist affectionately tousling Milo's coarse, midnight black hair. He was proud of his younger brother's admittance to his own wrongs.

The boys shared half-sided smiles both gazing down at the floor once more, both deep in thought.

"But…you gotta admit," Milo pointed out amusedly after a few moments.

"What?" a curious Arnold asked.

"The food fight wasn't all _that_ bad."

"_Milo_…," sighed the older boy exhaustedly.

"I'm serious! Watching all that food fly before it strikes people in the face—even you'd have to laugh at that!"

Arnold was about to gently retort…

"Hey, the little guy's got a point, Arnold."

Well, he would have if Gerald hadn't swaggered in from out of the blue and intruded on the conversation…although Milo didn't seem to mind.

Arnold, on the other hand…

"Gerald…"

In response to such a warning tone, Gerald simply raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Just sayin'."

"Okay, okay, okay," Milo paused for a bit to take a deep breath before continuing.

"Just answer me this, Arnold—was there nothing you found fun _or_ funny about the food-fight—nothing at all?"

Arnold simply sighed in agitation.

"Come on, man, even you gotta admit— there was some pretty funny stuff that went down during that food-fight."

Our hero in red plaid and green placed a hand to his nonexistent chin as he contemplated, no doubt influenced, despite his better judgment, by the incitement from both his younger brother and his best friend.

"Well…maybe it was … a _little_ funny when Wolfgang got that mystery meat in his hair," stated the male blonde reluctantly.

Milo, however, didn't fail to notice the tiny smile peeking out from under Arnold's nose, and thus seized the chance.

"Dude, did you see the speed that guy was running at? Man, of all the times not to have a stopwatch…_or_ a camera…"

Before long, Gerald and Milo were guffawing a mile a minute. Even Arnold was finding the urge to chuckle difficult to resist.

Gerald, "Unbelievable, you'd think somebody lit that brother's shoes on fire!"

Milo, "Or stuffed his pants full of burning mad fire ants!"

Arnold, "Heh, and I guess I have to admit; ducking under the tables to avoid getting hit _was_ kind of fun."

Milo, "Tell me about it! I felt like we were in one of Grandma's old gangster movies! Tomatoes to the left, French fries to the right, tapioca overhead—quick, Sonny, take cover behind that—"

A deep-throated but crisp voice coughed behind them, silencing their banter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

All three boys went as erect as statues after recognizing _that_ voice!

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I distinctly said _all_ students were responsible for clean-up."

Now standing up (Arnold and Milo had shot up the second they heard the voice), all three boys simultaneously pivoted where they stood to discover a severely disgruntled Wartz looming sternly over them. The principal lowered his eyes to scrutinize the three children…

_Especially_ Milo…

"Unless of course, you'd all prefer I call your families earlier than intended."

With eyes narrowed like that and such a menacing whisper, Wartz meant business!

Arnold and Milo were in no rush to deal with a displeased Mamma Bear the moment they'd return home.

Gerald, of course, was more worried about invoking the wrath of "the Wartz" (even though the boy's apprehension wasn't ill-placed).

An alarmed Arnold, "Sorry, Principal Wartz, we're right on it!"

A winking, though still inwardly nervous, Gerald, "So if you'll excuse us…"

As such, Arnold, Milo, and Gerald moved on to return to their jobs, lest they distemper their irate school official any further.

Without a moment to lose, the trio picked up its cleaning supplies— some buckets and mops— and each member returned to his assigned duty.

None of the boys uttered even a word until the satisfied principal was long gone.

Milo, "Hey Arnold?"

"Yeah?"

The younger boy hesitated a few moments before answering...almost as if he was afraid of something.

Eventually, he whispered, "Did … did I really throw a cream pie in our principal's face?"

All the football-headed boy could give his unofficial sibling was an expression that said:

'_Really?'_

"Yeah," Arnold replied in a dry tone, "you threw a cream pie in our principal's face."

At this point, Milo was shaking his head, disbelief claiming his features as he mentally reviewed his own mishap.

"How could I have misfired and missed something as massive as Harold's melon head? Besides, I think Wartz should be appreciative that I only hit him in the face with a pie."

Our football-headed protagonist's eyebrows shot up in confusion the second those words were stated.

"Why's that?"

With one finger raised and a serious countenance, Milo explained.

"That cream pie was no gourmet dessert, Arnold, sure, but at least a person's taste buds could tolerate it. Trust me when I say I saw the rest of the food being served today…that man could've ended up getting struck by something much worse."

One blink, two blinks— then there came four seconds of awkward silence…

…only to be punctuated by a half-lidded, amused expression—courtesy of Arnold Shortman.

Milo, sighing heavily, "Okay…what did I do, now?

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><p><strong>I know. Milo is talking quite a bit here, but let's remember that he's around Arnold, who's practically like family to him, and has been around Gerald enough to feel comfortable around him.<strong>


	9. Phoebe

**I don't own Hey Arnold! Seriously, you can even ask Craig on Facebook if you don't believe me!**

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><p><strong>BOOM<strong>

Like Mount Saint Helen, the entire school, right down to its foundations, trembled from the groundshaking explosion.

The tremors seemed like an eternity before they died down, even though they only lasted a few ephemeral seconds.

Before too long, bizarre blue smoke began permeating the halls not long after the mini-quake had ceased…

And who else would stumble from the blue smoke other than a coughing Milo Mahana—with a disoriented Phoebe Heyerdahl of course?

The acclaimed girl genius of P.S. 118 busied herself with wiping her glasses clean of some disgusting azure goop before addressing the younger child beside her.

"Um…perhaps we should elect another experiment."

The young boy's ashy, blue face suddenly bore a wide grin, regardless of the destruction the grin's owner had wrought.

"Will that have something I can blow up too?"

Luckily for the school (and every living being inside it), the petite Asian girl gave a disapproving glare that put an end to _that_ thought.

Milo huffed in begrudging defeat the moment he realized the reply was not going to be affirmative.

"Fine…I'll follow the 'procedures' next time," stated the boy reluctantly, utilizing his fingers to air-quote 'next time.'

Phoebe simply rolled her eyes before returning a glare to her lab partner and retorting levelly but irritably,

"Yes...that course of action would certainly yield better results."

"Okay…okay…I'll remember next time!" exclaimed Milo in a conciliatory tone. "Sorry!"

To the seven-year old's annoyance, Phoebe kept her accusatory stare on him for a few more moments before finally turning on her heel, huffing indignantly, and then strolling back to the classroom in an outraged air oddly reminiscent of Helga.

Milo could only roll his eyes at the display.

"Last time _I_ try to liven up this place..."

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><p><strong>Don't forget to review!<strong>


	10. Eugene

**Oh Eugene...I own neither you nor the cast of Hey Arnold! In other words, I am not responsible for any misfortune that befalls you. Sorry! X(**

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><p><strong>Eugene<strong>

"Question, Eugene—how many times already have you been flung into Old Man Donald's backyard this week?"

Milo wasn't trying to sound snarky. He simply threw out that inquiry in genuine curiosity. Unlike Arnold, the football-headed boy's "younger brother" had never spent considerable time with any of the people from Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class, much less spoken with them conversationally.

Arnold, however, though he properly interpreted the younger boy's intention, was apprehensive of the possibility that Eugene might actually take the query the wrong way.

"Milo…," warned the football head tersely.

Eugene, however, being the oblivious optimist he was, took no note of Arnold's stern countenance as he addressed Milo with a smile.

"Oh, no need to worry. All I have are a few bite marks and tears," Eugene stated dismissively with his usual perkiness.

This current conversation was taking place right outside of Mrs. Vitello's flower shop as a befuddled Milo pushed the wheelchair of Eugene Horowitz, who, at the moment, was almost practically mummified by the bandages wrapped around him.

Save for his head at least…

Arnold, of course, was accompanying the two oddballs in the extremely likely event Eugene's bad luck streak might send Milo into the crossfire.

The brown-skinned seven-year old, though grateful at Eugene's inadvertent interference of the formerly upcoming "Arnold" lecture, raised an eyebrow skeptically at the redhead's poorly-supported assurance.

"You forgot to include your broken limbs—all four of them actually."

'_Man, that Bingo dog is ruthless!' _thought Milo in utter bewilderment.

No, seriously, the fact that Eugene was still alive, much less breathing, was nothing short of an absolute miracle.

Arnold began rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

Man, no matter how many times he observed Eugene's daily mishaps, Arnold could never stop feeling sympathy for his ill-fated classmate.

'_Besides, the way this whole day turned out__** is**__ kind of my fault.'_

"Sorry you guys. This day didn't work as planned."

At hearing these apologetic words, Milo and Eugene both halted in their tracks (no pun intended in Eugene's case) to gaze at their oddly shaped headed companion in total shock.

As quickly as the shock came, though, it faded just as soon, only to be replaced by two different sets of smiles:

Eugene and, of course, his broad grin…

Milo and his sly smirk…

Speaking of which, the latter, in a joking tone,

"Really..? Well, if getting stuck in free ice cream for four hours, having to trek past the mud pits to rescue Eugene, and then getting to have a bird's-eye view of Hillwood at sunset from the top of a temporarily inaccessible building full of pigeons is what you call a 'bad day,' Arnold, then I really can't wait to see what a good day looks like!"

Like Milo, the school-proclaimed jinx wasn't fazed by the setbacks of today either.

"He's right, Arnold. In fact, I don't think any of us could have imagined this day turning out as well as it did."

Wait…were they being serious?

Arnold simply couldn't believe his ears!

"So the two of you aren't upset about—"

The dark-toned young man waved a hand nonchalantly, signaling to suggest a lighthearted view of today's events.

"Accidents happen, Arnold—just like stubbing your toe…even though Eugene tends to break more than just his toe. No offense."

Eugene,

"None taken."

'Sides, how could you honestly expect yourself to predict that the baseball machine at the amusement park would go psycho? What? Are you—"

Right then, Milo's voice shifted to a funky tone reminiscent of that of a gypsy woman. He also scrunched up his face to emulate the wrinkly face of an elderly woman.

"The fortuneteller—do you see dhe future? Do you see dhe fates of others' love lives? Can you see what our grandmutha' may cook tonight?"

Though blushing once more due to his shy streak, Arnold chuckled a bit at the younger child's impersonation.

In fact, Eugene, too, was chuckling a bit at Milo's antics.

As soon as the laughter died down, trio resumed with their trek to Eugene's home.

"Besides, Arnold, the doctor's already given me treatment and says I should be alright in three weeks. Trust me—nothing to worry our heads over."

Milo in a supportive tone,

"Yeah, that's the spirit, Eugene."

Inside the mind of the youngest of the trio, however, was a story of whole another color.

'_Wow, and I thought my big bro was an optimist to a fault.'_

Seriously, Milo swore Fate had some delusional vendetta against the red-headed jinx. The poor guy couldn't walk even two inches without some calamity soaring in his direction.

Speaking of jinxes…

"By the way, it's awfully nice what you're doing, Milo—worrying for me like that. Not to mention that you were willing to guide me back to my house," Eugene mentioned in wholeheartedly with a complimenting beam.

Arnold, proud of Milo's generous deed, wore a similar grin that easily reflected that of Eugene.

Blushing modestly, Milo, this time, was the one who rubbed one hand sheepishly against the back of his head, his expression complementing the gesture.

"Well, somebody needed to stick around in case you had shock or something from that baseball fiasco. Mom says it's never a good idea to leave shock victims by themselves."

"Gosh, I'm kinda surprised you and Arnold aren't relat—"

Just then Eugene's words were severed by a severe shout from the smaller boy.

"DUDES, HEADS—!"

By instinct, the redhead swiveled his head and his eyes to the front and shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the inevitable collision course.

BONK!

It never came—well at least not in Eugene's case.

"Umm," the perplexed redhead stated slowly, after realizing no pain had come as expected, "what just happened?"

No answer…

"…Milo? Arnold?"

Arnold, "Um…"

Odd…"Um" wasn't a typical Arnold response.

"What is it?"

Milo, "Uh…"

And "Uh" wasn't a typical Milo response…especially with the slack jaw and wide set eyes.

Apparently the seven-year old was too distracted by something behind him, Eugene, and Arnold to pay much attention to Eugene.

Arnold, on the other hand, was just cognizant enough of the redhead to point a finger in the direction in which he and Milo were staring.

Following his classmate's finger, Eugene shifted eyes to the proper direction.

His eyes nearly bugged out!

Right on the sidewalk was a comatose Wolfgang, a delirious expression plastered all over his gangly face.

Surrounding the fallen fifth-grader were his posse of dim-witted cronies. They were mumbling and complaining over the best course of action for ailing their indisposed leader.

Those thugs were probably sneaking up on the trio—probably in an attempt for unfinished business from "Trashcan Day"—before the incoming baseball interfered.

Realizing an opportunity for escape, the three boys dashed away from the scene (well, Milo and Arnold dashed— Eugene had to hang on tightly to his wheelchair as the second-grader charged it down the sidewalk at a remarkable speed).

Who knew seven-year olds could dash so quickly?

At mad dash, Arnold, Milo, and Eugene were at the speed of light and only began to decelerate and then eventually pause for a breather when they were in the middle of the park. (Their current location along a shortcut to the boardinghouse, from which reaching the Horowitz abode would be child's play).

"You know what, guys?" queried Eugene between his heavy huffing and puffing. "I think my days as a jinx may finally be over!"

Someone spoke a bit too soon.

**WHAM!**

Before either Arnold or Milo had a chance to blink, some unidentified object whizzed right out of the blue and walloped Eugene right in the gut. The end result was the unfortunate redhead soaring backwards in his wheelchair, the momentum eventually throwing the wheelchair—and Eugene—off balance.

Both chair and jinx toppled rearward and met the ground backs first.

Racing toward the fallen boy, panicked Arnold and Milo in unison called out,

"Eugene!"

…

"I'm okay."

Milo could only facepalm.

Yep, delusional vendetta…

'_On second thought, maybe I should stick with Eugene for a while longer. I might just increase his chances of survival.'_

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><p>"<strong>On second thought, scratch what I said about Arnie in "The Life and Times of Mr. Hyunh". <strong>_**Eugene**_** is the one who needs a break!"**


	11. Mr Hyunh

**Honestly, I need to learn to update faster! XP Or not! XD**

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><p><strong>Mr. Hyunh<strong>

"Susie…she is not my wife…and Arnold… he is not really my son."

Well… looks like the gig was up.

No surprise, though…

"And Bonnie and Milo…?"

Mom and me…

He's just got to make an exception for us!

He has to—

"I have no answer for that."

…make one for us

Or not…

Actually, Pooh's expression was more solemn than ashamed when he mentioned _us_.

Then again, what did I expect?

Of course, I'm not his son by blood.

Sure, he's been in my life ever since I was born, but…

That fact never made a grain of difference, did it?

Oh, well…that's not _so_ bad…right?

I still have my mom, I still have Arnold, I still have my wacky boardinghouse family…

And I still have _him_.

Even if he'll never see me as anything more than that kid he's fated to babysit…

That was the truth anyway.

And truth was supposed to hurt after all, right?

Just like reality…

So why would I have felt better if he'd lied?

No, the reason wasn't the job. Getting everybody to masquerade as relatives was a bad idea from the start. Part of me still wishes Arnold had talked everybody out of this gimmick.

What—you expected _me_ to pick up from where Arnold left off?

Are you kidding? I'm one of the crazy people Arnold has to live with! Besides, I'm only a little kid, precocious or not.

Who would ever listen to _me_?

Still, I wanted Mr. Hyunh to have that head chef job, or at least still _have_ a job. Yeah, I know better than to believe the kind of crap that flies out of Uncle Oscar's mouth…

'_He can't tell him the truth. Because then Mr. Hyunh's boss will know he is a liar and fire him, and then Mr. Hyunh will become a poor, homeless beggar.'_

You never know, right?

And now by the looks of tonight, I have a bad feeling Oscar's words might actually come true.

"So you don't have a family at all?" Hyunh's boss inquires in an accusatory tone that just makes me want to wring the man's neck. Hyunh couldn't help the fact that his actual family doesn't live with him!

My guardian gazes down at the floor shamefully as he answers meekly, "No…e—except for my daughter…"

Ugh, why do I have the urge to gnash my teeth every time he mentions her?

Why do I even get that stupid urge at all?

Mai never did anything to me— nothing horrible or mean anyway.

All she ever did was be nice to me and my mom.

Even Helga's guilty of more trouble than Mai…and I hang out with the blonde for crying out loud! (Well, I'm more or less _forced_ to hang out with her, according to whom you talk to, but that's beside the point.)

Besides, Mai never got to see her father in twenty years. How would I feel if Mom and I had to go through the same?

So why do I still feel like the two of us have the short end of the stick here?

Especially me…?

"Wait, that's not fair!"

Arnold…?

I turned my head to focus attention on our makeshift family's rock, who stood up—literally and figuratively—to Mr. Camacho.

"So Mr. Hyunh _did_ lie about a few things, but that's only because you were more worried about having chef with a big family than you were about having a chef who's the best cook."

I had to use all my will not to split my face from beaming, despite my innermost depression.

You gotta admit; that z-brother of mine sure knew when to save the day with his epic speeches.

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><p>And he got it…<p>

Pooh actually got the promotion…

"I still cannot believe it. I am head chef!"

I can't believe it either. This was fantastic! So what if I cracked my face in half from my ridiculously sized grin?

'_He finally got the dream he wanted!'_

"Way to go Pa—"

To my great disappointment, another piece of reality hit me: he wasn't my father. He was just another one of my eccentric uncles.

Lowering itself back swiftly, my hand rejoined its bro on my lap.

At least I caught that last word before it slipped.

My somber expression must have been rather obvious, though, because in no time at all Pooh was peering at me with his thin eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Milo…what is wrong?"

Honestly, I don't care how horrible at lying I am (a fact I'd like to blame on Arnold); a part of me just couldn't bear the thought of dampening his mood.

"Just… wondering…just wondering..."

"You seem a bit too sad to be just wondering."

'_Damn it. I'm an open book, aren't I?'_

Ah well…might as well get everything out in the open…

So I took a deep, deep, _deep_ breath and blurted out,

"Why do you always keep saying you don't have a family?"

Mr. Hyunh raised an eyebrow at me in confusion, although I swear I could see traces of concern still etched in his slanted eyes too.

"Uh…aside from Mai that is…"

Eyes widening in realization, his lips did that funny "o" shape before he fixed on me a stare of wisdom —the kind of stare that made him appear just as old as he truly was.

"You two aren't my family. You are right."

No sugarcoating, just like what Mom does when we have serious talks together—I'm glad.

Reality is hard enough when you see it at face value.

"Heh…at least we make the relation look better than Oscar's lame photo gimmick," I half-joked. Honestly, I hope that remark and all my smiling lighten up the mood.

Well, the plan _seems_ to be working. Pooh's giving me a soft smile back at least. He even lays a hand on my head in affection.

Just like when I was a baby…

All I could do was smile back.

"You two are not my family. You are my life."

Then my smile dipped down into a baffled frown, my eyes trying their best not to pop out of my head.

'_W—what?'_

His…life…?

"I-I don't...," was all I could manage to stammer before he put finger to his lips to gently signal me to stop.

"Before you, all I wanted was to find Mai again. If it were not for Bonnie, Diego, Arnold, Gerald, or Helga, even you, I would have lived alone."

Sometimes I wonder how many types of loneliness there are in the world. Whichever one Pooh had to deal with, it must had been nauseating to need all those people to remedy it.

"...What about the rest of your family?" was a question that came out of my mouth a tad awkwardly.

"There is still a degree of respect and care I must give them," Hyunh admitted with a heavy sigh. "They are family, after all, but Mai…"

She's his everything.

Wait a second, then how can Mom and me be his life?

Mai already has most of her dad's heart...doesn't she?

"Mai, for longest time, was the only reason I continued to live. I would have refused to exist if I thought I had lost her."

_Refused to exist..._

There's something I need you to know about me first. Most of the death and gore kids these days either love or get apathetic towards...my heart gets heavy at such details. No, fear doesn't grip me and turn me pale white. There's only this solemnness that just seems to consume me—as if I'm sort of priest paying respects to the departed. If the death and gore are in a video game (as long as the game is not _too_ close to reality), art, or even a fictional book, that solemnness isn't so bad since I know whatever I'm seeing or reading isn't actually real.

Pooh's words are different. I can practically see him holding himself at gunpoint or knifepoint...

Want to know the scariest part, though?

I can't see him hesitating in the slightest at all.

_You are my life._

In other words, _"you and your mother are why I dare to live. I would have taken my life if I thought I had lost you two as well."_

"There are days I wonder why I still bother...why I still bother being alive."

This time, my heart's the one getting constricted. The image I had of his suicide was closer to reality than I thought. That morbidly wistful tone in his voice does is not helping matters at all.

Despite being a little late compared to my mind, my throat still constricts so tightly the second I hear those dark words.

Not even Mai would be able to stop him if he wanted to...to...

"Arnold would've stopped you."

The voice that comes from my throat is dry, but it's still audible. I'm shocked I can even speak coherently.

Even so, though, my words are a lie, a lie only meant to hide my lack of faith...and I know it.

Hyunh seems to be thinking along the same lines because now he's shaking his head slowly at me.

"No…Arnold is good kid, and he is very smart for his age. So very smart…"

"Don't forget a hell of a motivational speaker…"

Pooh simply made an affirmative 'hmm' sound as he nodded his head with a faint smile.

He never really said anything about my cursing, at least not when I cursed where no one else could hear me. I guess that leniency in language was just one of the reasons I felt so comfortable being around him.

"But there is so much he still needs to learn…"

'_Still needs to learn...'_

Pondering over those words for a few moments gets the gears in my brain turning all of a sudden. Mom once told me that "school may end one day, but education lasts a lifetime."

To be honest, I'm not too sure if I completely understand her words aside from their meaning of learning being an ongoing process, but something in my guts just kind of urged me to offer my dad-to-never-be similar wisdom.

"I think you've got some things to learn yourself, too."

Hyunh raised his eyebrows at me in confusion before curiously asking, "What do you mean?"

My emerald green pupils turned to him in response.

"A lot of people would miss you if you killed yourself" are the words that slip off my tongue. They're heavy, yeah, but also necessary to slap—and I mean really slap—Hyunh to reality.

He didn't say anything, though, his face blank like an unused piece of paper, so I continued.

"There people out there who'd be sad if you died. Very sad...I'd be. Mom definitely would be. Heck, over half the people in this city would probably cry for you. You _are_ a pretty swell guy, Pooh."

Luck must love me—that mini-speech of mine earned me _another_ grin and hair tousle from Mr. Hyunh.

"When you called her and me your life, did you mean you don't love us –- or anyone else—the way you love—?"

"Quan Am..."

...

"What?"

"One of the names for the Bodhisattva of Infinite Compassion... meant to represent _karuna_, compassion and willingness to bear the pain of others..."

"And each person is believed to be a hand of the Bod—the thousand-arms lady by way of acts of compassion."

Knowledge like the kind I just added in isn't what you'd expect from a seven-year old, so I half-anticipated for Pooh to raise his eyebrows at me.

He didn't.

"To be honest, I hoped I would never see my daughter again."

'_Say what!'_

I did _not_ just hear that! No way did I just hear that! Pooh, you gave your own kid up, just so she wouldn't be killed! You spent more than 20 years of your life, waiting and waiting just to get a chance to see her again! And now here you are, practically telling me you were terrified at the thought of ever seeing your only child again.

Ironically, there's only one word that manages to escape my mouth:

"Why?"

"All I got to see of her childhood was her being a baby. There is so much of her youth I have missed out on. Childhood, school, birthday parties, teens, her first date...there was no chance for me to even see her leave for the outside world. Someone else got to have all those chances... I never did. No matter how much I still love my daughter, no matter how much time I try to spend with her, no matter how many times I tell her I love her...only a fool could believe I would be able to take back those years she grew up without me."

There is nothing I can say at all at this point. How could I? Everything Pooh was telling, whether I wanted to believe him or not, actually made sense- absolute, total sense.

"The only father I'd been was in Vietnam. Regardless of what either I or Mai say, the honest truth is...I am no one's father at all. Just this old man whose aging face was thrust into this young woman's life simply because I knew her in the distant past...Any fool can care about someone, Milo. Love is more than just caring for someone else. Love needs roots to be strong. Otherwise, it will topple over in the end."

Dumbstruck—dumbstruck is all I am at this moment. This wisdom I'm receiving...? It's opening me eyes to about a thousand new possibilities. There's one possibility that sticks in my mind, however, moving me to scrunch my eyebrows in heavy thought I gaze down at the floor. All I need is just an opening to bring that possibility up.

Speaking of opening...

"Mom told me how she used to believe all those stories about couples being apart and staying in love were all a bunch of crap that didn't even belong in the toilet," I offered thoughtfully, remembering my parent's critique of chick flicks.

Hyunh, with an air of considerate empathy,

"There is a truth to her words. Do you want to know why I keep coming back to you and Bonnie?"

I nodded attentively, anticipating his explanation while my possibility was still nestled safely in the back of my mind.

"Your father made me promise that I would protect you and your mudda. In the way I had assumed things would go, my belief was that I would stay by you and Bonnie for the sake of helping my friends. That is why I mentioned Quan Am. My decision was an act of compassion through my heart. I just never realized until a time ago my heart would take me down a whole, new path."

'_Now's my chance...,' _I inwardly exclaimed in eagerness.

"But doesn't the fact that Diego's…y'know…mean you're not bound to that promise anymore?"

"I asked myself same question," spilled from Pooh's lips as his dark brown eyes landed on me, "Frankly…"

All of sudden, one of his lanky arms scooped me up as if I were a scoop of ice cream. Being miniature really gets me off guard sometimes.

"I do not care. Not anymore…And I have a feeling Diego would not have cared either."

My face, it can feel the corners beginning the upturn—the sign of an upcoming smile. There was still hope then.

Hyunh's has a smile of his own, except his has an apologetic touch to it. "I am so sorry...I only wish I had realized sooner what I do now."

He's looking me right in the eye now. That remorseful smile did not leave his face.

"Milo, I've fallen in love with your mudda."

'_**Have fallen?**__ — Dude, you've __**been**__ falling for my mom.'_

But I don't say that. I can't bring myself to say _that_.

"I know."

"Really...," he answered, sounding not interrogative but rather like he wanted me to continue. I already knew the drill, so my explanation followed suit.

"Yep…course, I like to think my conclusion was more of a question of 'where will fate take them?' rather than mere conjecture."

Yeah, this little kid here knew a couple details about romance. Just because Arnold was a brother to me didn't me I'm as dense as he is about love—well romantic love anyway.

"I knew without a doubt that you guys loved each other," I admitted softly. Deep down was another story. Deep down inside me, the child I am wanted to jump for joy. Here my sorta-dad was, finally admitting that my mom had his heart.

"I do not know when it happened exactly," the lanky man beside me began, carefully looking through his memories, "but I know my feelings began two years ago. Your fifth birthday party…"

Oh, that one had been a flat-out fiasco! One major reason had been that Helga had been invited at the same time she had started her bullying charade on Arnold.

Needless to say, the party was total chaos.

The piece of resistance, however, came when Pooh had to climb on top of a bouncy house Grandpa Phil had ordered (much to Mom's annoyance). If my memory serves me right, one of my presents ended up there somehow. Whatever that gift was, it must have had plenty of meaning for my "guardian" to climb up there and risk breaking a few bones.

Imagine the horror that went up my spine when he plummeted right off the rubber house and landed smack dab on his back. That touchdown earned a painful-sounding groan from the poor guy for sure.

Hyunh's voice nudged me out of my reverie.

"And I saw her. She was looking down at me. She looked as if she would frown or get upset. Maybe even cry...No…she smiled at me. 'You okay, bud?'—those words— they took my breath away."

Believe me or not—the guy even took a deep breath, his broad chest heaving greedily like the air in its lungs truly _was_ being taken away. After a few seconds, however, he looked back down at my face, only to see what he view as a slight frown on it.

"I am sorry…I do not wish to make you uncomfortable about all this."

Uncomfortable—is he serious? The notion is so silly; I just have to laugh my ass off at that! Don't worry, though, I got my fit under control after the confused and slightly hurt look in Hyunh's eyes.

"' _You okay, bud?_' Not exactly words I'd find romantic, but hey, I'm just fine with you being enamored with her. Besides, you helped Mom raise me the moment I took my very, very first breath. I never feel right when either of you are missing from the picture."

For the—yes, you guessed right—third time that night, my guardian (for now) tousled my hair affectionately.

"And _I_ never feel right when you are somewhere where Bonnie and I cannot see you. I will never love anyone more than I do Mai, even if we were apart…or more than I loved my Hue…"

Even though he stated that last part in a whisper, I was still able to hear those last words.

"Heh, she had a nice name…"

Hyunh raised an eyebrow at my interrupting randomness, but he gave a hearty laugh shortly afterwards.

"Thank you…but know this, Milo. I will never love anyone like I love you or Bonnie either. You two are the reasons I never left this place."

"_So_… if you could, you could have taken us with you?" There's a hopeful hitch in my voice, but, not wanting to embarrass myself, I do my best to hide it. No success...

My prospective dad only shrugged.

"Only if you and your mudda were willing…"

This time, I shrugged. How the heck was I supposed to answer _that_ question?

"I would not have minded keeping in touch with Arnold and his grandparents, though. They still did much for me after all."

"What about Ernie?"

"Oh, I would never want to lose touch with Ernie! He is one of my best friends."

One of his hands raised itself to stop me before I had a chance to even open my mouth another time, though.

"Please do not ask about Oscar. Suzie, yes, but anyone but Oskar..."

A chortle and a "Right"—what else did you expect? Oskar _was_ a living pain in the neck. You'd definitely agree after spending just fifteen –no _five _minutes with the mook.

Suddenly, my body notices an increase of pressure around itself.

Pooh—he's wrapping his arms around me in hug. His voice is merely a whisper, low enough to be for my ears only.

"Like I said before, if I could, we would have left so long ago...me...Bonnie...you...We would have lived our lives together anywhere in the world. Where we would go would have made no difference to me...not as long as I had the two of you with me. There is no child I'd rather raise than you. You are my second chance, Milo. I will never let you go in my heart, no matter how much you will change."

All the hope inside me is nearly gone now. No, it's not leaving me. It's changing into something else...almost something else...

"You are my son...and I would be so honored to be your father."

There are tears in my eyes, yes, tears flowing down my cheeks in rivulets, but there's no sobbing from my mouth. There's also no cliché joy in my heart when he says those words—only calmness I can't explain. My own child self is content with just resting in between his large, strong arms, his thundering heartbeat loud yet comforting against the side of my head. Tiny arms of mine did their best to wrap around his mammoth frame, but the meaning they held was all the same.

Everything felt like a difficult journey's end being reached at last.

I loved him. He loved me. Nothing was going to change that fact.

"Dad...?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Promise me you won't forget Mai. I like her. So does Mom."

His embrace tightened. A large hand was patting my back reassuringly.

"I'm glad you do, and do not worry, Milo. I will not."

"One more thing..."

Hyun—I'm sorry—_Dad_ pulled me out of his hug and put me back on his lap so he could see me face to face again.

"Yes, my son, what is it?"

"You got Mom pregnant."

...

I probably should've plugged my ears the second I said _that_ sentence.

...

"WHAT!"

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	12. Diego

**No, I have not abandoned "Hello Milo!" I only own the OCs that appear in this series. Anyone canon belongs to Craig and Nickelodeon!**

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><p><strong>Diego<strong>

"I wonder what having you for a son is gonna be like."

A dark brown, Hispanic male in his mid-twenties sat on his edge of the bed that he was sharing with his wife of three years.

The man was currently only dressed from the waist down— gray jogging pants and snow-white socks.

His upper half was exposed, revealing his slightly compact but muscular body. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair as his hairy chest rose and fell in time with his slow breathing.

'_Ay mis Dios. I'm gonna be a papa.'_

A papa with more darkness in his heart than in the night sky…

So much blood spilled by these hands…

How could these same fingers have shown such tenderness to the slumbering beauty bold enough to grace Diego with her presence?

So many lies spilled by these lips…

How could these lips have managed to deserve a place upon such a kind-hearted woman?

So much suffering insinuated by his green, green pupils…

Yet Bonnie dared to pierce his shell and embrace his true self. She succeeded.

Now here she was, filled to the brim with her child…

His child…

Their child…

'_How did I deserve all this?'_

All of this—a wonderful family, a vibrant city, loyal friends, a loving spouse…and pretty soon a giggling baby…

'_¿Que el infierno? How did I get here in the first place?'_

Did the answer really matter?

He was here now.

And right now that boy needed a father figure.

'_Except I ain't the only one…'_

And Diego was right.

There was a bounty of men in Hillwood to whom the child could look up, especially in the boardinghouse.

Phil, Ernie, Miles…Hyunh…

Speaking of which…

'_Pooh, mi amigo, you and me are in for some serious conversing tomorrow.'_

After all, the future is an unpredictable aspect of time.

There was no telling what might happen to anyone.

However, if such is the case, then…

A vigorous shaking of the head was what Diego needed rid his mind of such gloom.

'_Getting antsy over what hasn't even gone down yet—ain't no way to live. Ain't. No. Way. To. Live.'_

That boy needed a father figure alright…but he also needed a _father_.

'_And I'm close enough.'_

A final nod...with smile full of content...and a gentle kiss on his wife's swelling abdomen...Diego draped an arm over her and snuggled his face into her nape, moaning quietly against her soft skin.

Only one more month...one more month...

"G' Night, kiddo."


	13. Miles and Stella

**Miles and Stella belong to Craig and Nickelodeon. Milo is mine.**

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><p>"Hey! Kids have rights, too, buster!"<p>

Oh yeah, Milo was feeling _extremely_ sour at the moment. First, he, his Mom, Mr. Hyunh, Arnold, Helga, and Gerald _all_ get separated from the others. Next, the first three get separated from the ten-year olds. Then, all of a sudden, La Sombra swoops in from out of nowhere and snatches Milo away without anyone ever noticing.

'_Pretty sure they already noticed by now.'_

And the icing on the cake...Well, right now, Arnold's little brother had just been unceremoniously dumped on freezing stone and moss, and now watching the same jungle thug walk away, laughing his reeking butt off tauntingly at the boy's protests.

That comment about kids having rights, though, seemed to _really_ tickle La Sombra's funny bone.

Milo, head and hands sliding down the bars in annoyance, was _not _amused.

'_Jackass.'_

Sighing in defeat, the young boy seated himself on the stony floor, which held a bit of a chill to the touch.

How the heck was he going to get out of here?

"Excuse me."

That voice nearly made Milo leap out of his skin, or at least made his heart want to burst out of his chest! His eyes shot to the back of his cell in alarm!

Who _else_ was in here besides him?

Eyes adjusting themselves to the darkness of the cell, the dark-toned child eventually distinguished out of the black two shadowy, indistinct shapes.

The larger shape raised its hands (at least they looked like hands) up to placate the startled child. It spoke in a masculine yet soothingly smooth voice,

"Whoa, _easy there_, little guy! We're not gonna hurt you! Who are you?"

Milo squint his eyes in great concentration as his vision adapted more to the blackness, even though at this point he could only make out the general shapes of the duo in darkness. Those two must have been down here a while.

'_They sure smell like it.' _The young one stuck a finger upwards as a means of saying "Hold it!"

"First off, watch who you call little. Second..."

How in the world would he know whether or not he could trust these people? Okay, granted, maybe being incarcerated by the same, fiendish river pirate (with very, _very_ poor hygiene by the way) that had kidnapped _him_ guaranteed _some_ need for trust...but that guarantee didn't rule out that Milo still didn't know them personally to the point that he'd be willing to owe them his life.

'_I wouldn't even owe them my own socks! For I all know, those two could easily rat me out and leave me in hot water, just so they could save their __**own**__ skins!'_

Still...something about those two beings triggered some nagging worm in the back of Milo's head, almost as if requesting him to reconsider his suspicion-driven thoughts. Whether that worm meant truth or false security for the young one remained to be seen.

Well, there only one way to find out.

"Who are _you_?"

A light giggling sound suddenly flowed from the lips of the smaller shadow, revealing the second being's femininity.

"We're the ones who asked first," the woman replied back playfully.

For reasons unfathomable, Milo, right then and there, had a sudden hunch—a small one, yes, but still— that he could probably get to enjoy the company of his fellow "inmates". At least one of them had a sense of humor. Returning a spirited smirk in return, the boy jokingly retorted,

"You're also total strangers. I don't know a single _thing_ about you guys."

"Okay, then," the shadow lady continued in that same playful tone. She seemed to be looking off to the side, but Milo had a strong feeling that she hadn't taken her eyes off him. "Since we _are_ strangers, then why is someone your age talking to us right now?"

O, she had him there!

For a moment, the brown-toned youngster, backed into a proverbial corner, was at a loss for words.

"I'd like to blame circumstance in this case." Okay, so he didn't have any _strong_ words to say. At least he made an effort.

Regardless, the larger male chuckled quietly but not unkindly while the female only rolled her eyes at the boy's silliness.

Oddly enough, neither adult asked for the child's name any further. Said child merely shrugged indifference.

'_No skin off my nose...at least I won't have to worry about them using me for some crazy ransom scheme.'_

A few moments of silence followed shortly afterwards, leaving Milo to his own thoughts ...thoughts of how distraught (and ticked) his parents must be—especially his mother— and how Arnold, Helga, and Gerald were holding up.

At least there would be no need to worry about the two blondes gnawing on each other's nerves this time around. Ever since the FTI incident, an extremely pivotal event of which Milo has received an earful enough to last him until the two blondes' wedding day, the oddly fitting couple had made great leaps and bounds in their relationship. Granted, the process for a while had been anything but a picnic (what with the various schemes and near social death experiences and close calls with certain gossip-obsessed or revenge-minded classmates). However, thanks to encouragement from not only Arnold, but as well as Milo himself, Gerald, Phoebe, Lila, Brainy, and even Bonnie, the rest of the boarders, Phil, and Gertie, Helga had grown more used to the idea of revealing her soft, tender side in front of others. At least now, she wouldn't have to keep the whole "I'm your bully for all eternity so deal with it, bucko" charade up _everywhere_.

Unfortunately, by the looks of this trip's events, Arnold and Helga's love was about to be put to the test more than ever.

Perhaps even the same could be said for Bonnie and Mr. Hyunh...

Even after the marriage, the tendency of Milo's new father to worry for the future knew no limits. Yes, he'd stopped hiding his affections for the feisty Ms. Mahana and his fatherly love for her eccentric son eons ago, but since then he'd become a living bundle of nerves and hysteria. The fact that the oddball family had practically been forced to take this treacherous trek into the jungle to help Arnold play out his destiny as messiah of the Green Eyes while avoiding a very vengeful river pirate and a whole slew of other tropical dangers...

Yeah, not the kind of stress a family needed...especially if the mother is already at full term and on the verge of giving birth!

Nice timing on being the epic messenger, Eduardo.

And who _knows_ how everyone else of Mr. Simmons's class was holding up?

In short, every single one of Milo's friends and family were all scattered out there in a world they knew practically nothing of!

Ugh, what was he doing here waiting anyway?

'_There is __**no**__ way I'm stayin' here. Deadly river pirate or not, I gotta get out and see if everyone's alright!'_

He just needed to find a way out...but how? Sitting around had never been Milo's favorite pastime so he stood up and began to pace around, knocking his mind around a bit in order to conjure up an escape plan.

After a while, though, the sepia-toned captive started to notice his cellmates were a bit closer to each other than before. At first, he'd thought the man was merely trying to comfort the woman beside him—this would have proven Milo's earlier suspicions of the two being a married couple—except the man did not have an arm around her. Instead the two figures were huddled together, heads facing each other and nodding and shaking occasionally.

The reason suddenly dawned on Milo: while he had been devising a plan, they had been communicating to each other in strange whispers...whispers about a name that had haunted his mother and stepfather for years.

Milo himself never heard the name they were using, but he still raised an eyebrow in suspicion, reflecting back on his reluctance in trusting them in the first place and now wondering whether that reluctance had been spot on after all.

'_Alright, what the heck is so important that I gotta be kept out of the loop?'_ became the irked thought that streamed through the frustrated young man's mind.

In fact, he was just about to angrily voice that very thought until...

"Y'know, kid, you're starting to remind me of someone." No longer did the woman's voice sound light and playful like before...now it held a slow, hesitant tone...almost as if its owner feared the occurrence of being proven wrong after all.

Dark, thick eyebrows scrunched together as Milo's frown slightly lessened. _'I...what?'_

What kind of observation was that anyway? '_I know I've never met these guys in my life. I definitely know they never meet __**me**__ before.'_ In fact, the only person who came to mind for the eight-year old as far as being similar to him was—

Realization rooted Milo to the floor! Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, and arms limp, he stared at the figures in shock.

'_No way—there's __**no**__ way...'_

If they had known _him—_the man whose face Milo shared— and if that nagging suspicion meant what it really had meant, then these strangers were actually—

The woman's smooth voice brought the stunned child back to reality before he could finish his startling conclusion.

"Yeah...I don't why. You just look kind of...familiar." The woman shrugged her shoulders, a tad confused at the boy's look but otherwise oblivious to his train of thought and where it had taken him.

"I think what Stella means is...," the man continued, just as perplexed by his younger companion's expression but also unaware of the conclusion developing. "You remind her of a friend of ours." He narrowed his eyes a bit as he took a closer look at Milo, noting the similarities Stella had pointed out. "Come to think about it, you _do_ look a lot like Diego..."

That sentence was all Milo needed!

"So you guys _did_ know Diego!" Jumping up like a rabbit in spring, Milo, bent forward with his hands tightened into fists, bore the hugest grin his face would allow!

This was really happening. This was really, honestly, and actually happening!

'_I...I just found them! I found Arnold's parents! Oh man, thank you La Sombra Tonta! Wait until Arnold finds out—'_

The optimistic baritone of Arnold's father, Miles, busted through Milo's euphoric thoughts. He slammed his fist down into the palm of his other hand in utter excited disbelief! "No _wonder_ you look so familiar!"

Neither of the males noticed Stella's silence...or the fact that she had her head down as if in deep thought.

"Oh man, can you believe this, Stella? Bonnie and Diego actually did it!"

So caught up in the thrill and excitement of destined discovery, Milo went so far as to blurting out, "Tell me about—", before he finally registered Miles's words...and the bad news that would have to follow...

'_Uh oh...They don't know, do they?'_

"Stella?"

Evidently, Miles had also paused in mid-celebration but for a different reason altogether.

All the answer Milo needed came right from Stella. Even though her expression still seemed indistinguishable in the dark, the son of a departed friend could easily see the outlines of her thin shoulders shake a bit.

No doubt she had just come to a conclusion herself...and a rather harrowing one at that.

"Milo... you said Miles and I _did_ know Diego...what did you mean by that?"

Whether Miles had caught on to where his wife was going with that question remained to be seen, but he still went with the flow, a tad worried as to where the conversation was headed.

"Where is he?" The oblong-headed woman's voice sounded quiet...but even a deaf man could have heard the tears creeping into her voice.

'_I'm gonna hate myself for this.'_

"A bullet got him." No hesitation, no voice cracking (surprisingly), no tears, or even flinching...simply softly uttered deliverance of the truth that struck Milo just as hard as it did Miles and Stella...

The boy swore he never felt so foul in his life.

Right then and there, Stella at last gave into the tears. There came from her no loud sobbing or wild shaking...only slight tremors of her body that accompanied her quiet weeping.

Miles wasn't as obvious, but Milo just knew the man, even in his efforts to comfort his heartbroken wife, was trying to stem the flow of his _own_ tears.

Now even Milo had to shed drops of sadness...not for Diego himself, but for the people here who had cherished the man so deeply.

He wiped a few tears away with his right upper arm. "Sorry you had to find out like this."

'_Way to go, Milo...' _In spite of the tears, a sigh couldn't help escaping the seven-year old's mouth. Why oh why did that stupid conscience have to sound like Helga right now?

"No, don't be."

'_Huh...?'_ went the conscience.

"Huh...?" went Milo out loud, eyebrows raised as he gazed up at the spot occupied by Stella's face.

"He always said he wanted to go out with a bang anyway." Her voice still held melancholy, but there was a touch of forced lightheartedness as well. She even chuckled a bit. "Sounds like irony finally caught up to him."

Miles patted her shoulder with the hand he'd put around her before turning back to Milo to address him. "Is Bonnie at least okay?"

Thankfully, the question about Mrs. Mahana drove Milo out of his temporary depression and got him nodding vigorously and cheerfully at Arnold's father.

"Alive, yes, okay..." but then the boy paused a bit, the returning smile gone once again, though for a different reason this time, as he put finger to his chin. "...I _highly _doubt, especially since she's going to go primal on La Sombra and his cronies for taking me, but especially on La Sombra."

Chuckling suddenly bounced up into the air from Stella at the boy's quirky, mixed assurance. "Heh, sound likes Bon hasn't lost her temper..."

'_At least she's not sad anymore.'_ The boy could at least take comfort in that fact.

Now on to more pressing details...like on how to get the heck outta of this pit of a hideout.

"Is there any way out of here?" Milo inquired concernedly but determinedly.

Arnold's folks merely shared a look (at least they looked like they were doing as such—they were still sitting in the dark back of the cell much to Milo's chagrin).

Stella shook her oblong head at the young man solemnly. "Believe me. They have this place sealed _tight_. La Sombra is not taking any chances."

Milo looked back at the hallway beyond his, Miles, and Stella's cell. "But there's no guard in sight."

This time, Miles took the reins to explain the true skill of the "Shadow's" henchmen. "That doesn't mean they're not there. One thing you need to know about river pirates, kid, is that they're serious experts at stealth."

'_We'll see about that.'_ Oh, this escape was going to be_ too_ good! "Then today's a lucky day for you folks then!"

A genuinely confused but also slightly interested Stella asked, a thin eyebrow risen up, "Why's that?"

The smirk on the arm-crossed boy's face said everything.

So did those of Miles and Stella soon after...

"Are you insane?" exclaimed Arnold's father in shock and genuine concern. "No offense, Milo, but there is no way you're doing this..."

Stella stopped her husband in mid-sentence with a hand on her shoulder, an action to which he did not protest to, and continued with a sly grin, "...at least not without proper supervision."

At long last, Miles and Stella stepped away from the shadows and in full view of the light. Granted the two looked rather worn out and slightly greyed, but they looked exactly the same as in Arnold's photo!

Without further ado, Milo, the grin never having had faded during the adult's responses, became almost—dare we say it?—Curly-like in quality!

He pulled out of his pocket a small bottle of green food dye that the pirates had been too arrogant to look for.

'_This trip is turning out to be better than I thought it would be.'_

"Then let's start, shall we? I got a Mom and Dad to get back to and a Mom and Dad to get back to their son!"

Miles and Stella weren't sure whether or not this kid was crazy...but hey, any psychotic plan was better than spending the rest of their days out in _this_ place!

'_Besides,'_ thought Stella smugly, _'I'm itching to see La Sombra's face when he runs into Bonnie.'_


	14. Ernie

**I only own Milo and Bonnie. Not Hey Arnold...**

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><p><strong>Ernie<strong>

'_I __**hate**__ being left behind.'_

Today had been probably the most disappointing Halloween in Milo's life yet—and in the boy's opinion that was really saying something.

All he wanted was to help Arnold and Gerald get back at Grandpa for the "adults only for Halloween" rule from yesterday.

Where the heck did Phil get such a _stupid_ rule anyway? Come on, Halloween's _supposed_ to be for kids! What would be the point then of all the candy?

Regardless of whatever he felt, though, Milo did have to admit that Arnold's and Gerald's plans were following up quite well.

'_Maybe __**too**__ well...'_

From the vantage point of his bedroom window, Milo peered from the side of it, mindful not to expose too much of his "alien" self. Indeed, the whole city appeared to be in mass hysteria! Broken cars and garbage littered the streets as the panic-driven screeches of citizens running rampant soared through the smoke-streaked air, the bright, pulsating light of some small fires that had sprung up illuminating the city in a haunting yet ironically fitting orange glow.

In short, Hillwood was in total chaos.

Oddly enough, Milo kind of found the scene calming in a weird way. At least it proved to him that everyone down there, people who seemed so emotionless and fake in their daily expressions and moods (save for the nutcases in the boardinghouse, of course), could feel genuine fear just as easily as he could.

At least the odd comfort perked his mood up a tad.

Yet all the while the young boy was ruminating, the door to his room slowly and quietly swung open...

"You can put down that hammer, earthling. I'm not in the mood right now," the boy voiced deadpan, never turning around to see who was trying to sneak up on him.

Sure enough, right behind the "alien" was none other than Ernie Potts, "demolition extraordinaire". (At least that's what the diminutive red head loved to repeatedly claim.) Mr. Potts, in accordance with his drive for Halloween, was dressed as a bantam version of Frankenstein. Being able to see the reflection of Ernie—the man was half hidden by the door— in the window, Milo, despite his sour mood, suppressed a chuckle at the thought of the kind of heck Mr. Hyunh, the boy's unofficial father, had given Ernie about choosing the same costume as him.

"Heh, what hammer?"

When Milo, confused by the unexpectedly calm response, turned his head to the deceptively older man, now in full view, his eyes widened a bit in surprise upon discovering that Ernie indeed had his hammer nowhere in sight. He wasn't even hiding his hands behind his back.

Instead, the redhead, arms crossed and grinning amusedly, fixed the young "extraterrestrial" with a seemingly nonchalant but secretly sheepish look.

"So I guess terrorizin' planets is losin' its appeal for ya, huh?" Ernie asked lightly, rubbing the back of his temporarily cylinder-like head at the thin-veiled joke.

To say the least, little Milo felt shell-shocked! How could the same guy who practically worshiped that big-shot reporter (the reports of whom, Milo knew for dead sure, were a bunch of bull) swing around (no pun intended) and treat an alien right in front of him as casually and as calmly as if meeting a being from outer space was no biggie?

Milo could only shake his head and look back out the window, head propped on his crossed arms that now lay on the sill.

"Guess this alien's just feeling too glum to see any point. What are you doing here anyway?"

Ernie only shrugged, nothing more...although there _was_ that oddly timid look again. Heck, the man was even rubbing his arm, a most unusual action for someone typically so forthright and impulsive.

"Uh...well...it sorta involves this kid."

Without a word, the "alien" turned his bulbous head to fix the man with a suspicious, untrusting stare.

"That's it?"

Ernie only nodded and shrugged. He didn't even seem fazed by the look. "Yeah..."

'_There's no way he'd be concerned enough to look for me. Mom and Mr. Hyunh, sure...Arnold, Gertie, and Gerald, too...maybe even Helga...but somebody else too?'_

The idea itself made the young man look away from the burly fellow before him. Milo stared back at the outside, this time mulling over the possibility of being loved to such an extent.

"Mind if I ask _why_?"

To that question, Ernie's shy smile suddenly morphed into a trickster's grin as he waved his hands in mock defense.

"Now how'd I know you ain't got a ray gun or sumthin' stashed underneath those schmancy pants robes? For all I know, I might get vaporized or sumthin' like that the minute I'm done giving ya info."

Milo merely gave a scoff despite the man's efforts at humor.

"Heh... Ray guns...At least_ those_ would have accounted for someone actually _thinking_ about me. I got nothing but a lousy piece of Earth candy, and that was by accident! No weapons, no gadgets...There isn't anything on me to make a distress signal with. Nobody even bothered to notice if I was there to begin with! Not even the aliens closer to my age..."

With each word spoken, the brown iris eyes of the child seemed closer and closer to tears...but, no, strong people don't cry.

'_And __**I'm**__ strong.'_

Yet Ernie, quite possibly one of the strongest people Milo had ever met, gazed at the young one with a look of sympathy...as well as empathy.

Believe it or not, he knew exactly what the kid before was going through. The red-blooded and red-headed American himself could not even begin to count the times in his own life that he was left out to dry by people he thought he could trust...by family and friends alike.

Ernie walked to Milo's side and began gazing at the outside alongside him.

"Sounds like you's the one with the short end of the stick here. Ya really think nobody gives a darn about cha?"

Milo still did not take his eyes off Hillwood. "I don't have much evidence to say against that. That much I'm sure of."

"Heh, yeah well...pretty sure there's some people out there who'd get where you're comin' from."

Unbeknownst to the boarder, though, a critical decision had been taking place in Milo's mind—a decision that could possibly take the situation in a _very_ awkward direction. On the other hand, this decision would probably be a more merciful course of action than just being direct.

'_Worth a shot...I guess.'_

The young man, his face now a mixture of wonder and slight apprehension, cleared his throat, earning attention as well as a raised eyebrow from the diminutive demolition worker as a result.

"Actually...I _did _meet an Earth child in here not too long ago... while I was scouting the building. _Milo_ I think his name was," the "alien began a bit uneasily, "He seemed quite upset if I read his expression right."

Now Ernie may have not been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew a thing or two about how kids work. Heck, he himself was arguably still at heart a kid. However, he also knew Milo, much like his mother, had never been straight to the point when it came to expressing emotions. Therefore, the diminutive American decided to play along—for now at least.

"Hey, yeah, that's the kid I was talking about! Any idea where he mighta went?"

Okay, time to put this plan to action! The robed child cleared his throat before answering in a clear but visibly shaking voice,

"Well if I was the Earth child Milo—which I'm _not_!—I'd want a place to be alone and think about the people in my life."

He had honestly expected Ernie to roll his eyes right then and there. He didn't much to Milo's pleasant surprise; instead, he looked away from him and fixed his eyes on the stars above, completely ignoring the pandemonium from below. His eyes had this far off gaze that Milo had, so far, only seen being done by his mother, Arnold, Helga, and Mr. Hyunh.

"Any idea why the kid would wanna do that?"

Milo hesitated a bit before answering. _'What if he laughs about the other stuff I have to say?'_

"I guess he just...feels left out. He knows his Mom loves him, and he's quite certain she's, as you Earthlings would say, 'raising a storm' right now trying to locate him."

The "alien" suddenly jerked in realization at the uncanny Milo-like quality of his words. "Uh, a-at least, that's what he said to me!"

The urge to chuckle rose strongly in Ernie but he watered it down with a short amused-sounding "hmph."

'_Trust me, kid, if it weren't for Hyunhski, that mom of yours woulda wrecked the whole __**boardinghouse**__ by now.'_

"So who's he having problems with?"

A simple shrug was all the redhead's companion gave. "Everybody else, I guess."

Ernie said nothing, only giving the alien before a look that lay in between confusion and concern.

"He said to me that everybody in this edifice expects him to be meek and quiet so therefore he believes that they think he's just this submissive peon no one's going to bat an eyelash for."

This time, Mr. Potts shot the other occupant of the room a wide-eyed look full of incredulity! "The kid... really said all that?"

"Well...I might have changed the wording a bit—you Earthlings have the most coarse language I've ever heard so far."

Ernie indignantly jabbed a finger at the pseudo-extraterrestrial. "Hey now, we don't think that!"

"Yes you _do_; you even called him the right kind of kid! The kind of kid that keeps his trap shut, or does what he's told. It sounds as if all of you only love him when he's quiet...like a sort of servant."

With each and every word, Milo's tone revealed more and more of his hurt and anger.

Ernie's eyes, all the while, dimmed further and further with disgust and shame.

'_Oh me and my big mouth...I feel like a real heel right now.'_

Something had to be done.

"Listen...," Ernie rubbed the back of his neck meekly, attempting his best to keep looking Milo in the eye, "uh, you've probably been watching us for a while so you're probably already familiar with me and the otha' boarders and how we act and all...and I know we seem kinda out there and rough around the edges, and, okay, so we're grown-ups that want a little peace and quiet... but that don't mean we want nobody feeling bad about themselves...well okay 'cept Kokoschka, but he don't count. We don't wanna make Milo feel lousy."

Bit by bit, the rage melted away from Milo's eyes, leaving behind a miasma of exposed emotions. Yet all his expression had to show for those emotions were scrunched eyes and a slightly agape mouth.

The boy felt speechless.

"Then what about all the stuff that he told me that Phil said about Halloween being 'adults only?' Even from the standpoint of _my_ culture, I have to say that that's rather unjustified treatment right there."

To the "alien's" shock, Ernie responded with a deep-throated chuckle.

"Actually...I was kinda hopin' the kids would show ol' Phil what for."

'_He—he was?'_ Milo thought in perplexity and interest, tilting his head to gesture Ernie to elaborate.

"Really?"

Ernie nodded with an understanding smile. His younger companion couldn't help reciprocating the expression a bit.

"Yeah, I mean, you'll probably get where I'm coming from if ya got old folks from you're from. They say some pretty crazy stuff sometimes, so why not do something even crazier just to show 'em up?"

But then Ernie's smile descended into a frown as he looked away.

"I just wish I could find Milo...so I could tell the kid I'm sorry and prove him wrong about us. Uh...me and the boarders I mean...The youngest person in this whole boardinghouse stood up to the oldest, heck the guy who practically runs the joint...without ever asking from help from his peers, not even from Arnold. The kid's got some guts, I'll tell ya that, but he's still only seven. Kid doesn't need a let-down on a holiday like this. And if he really does think that we only see him as a little kid...maybe not even someone worth carin' 'bout...then maybe we're just lousy at being a family."

At this point, a nearly silent sniffle escaped from the quivering lips of the green-toned child. Never—never had he thought he'd hear ever such emotional—but oh so every real—words from a man who could have easily wrecked the whole boardinghouse with one swing of a hammer.

"If Milo were here, Ernie...he'd..."

A sniffle dared to erupt but the little soul still managed to swallow it and maintain an even voice,

"He'd tell you how much he loves you for saying something like that."

Ernie's eyes widened a bit as the man stared intently and fixedly at the boy in heartfelt amazement and relief. "Really...?"

A tiny hand slipped off the fake bulbous head and face...revealing a misty eyed but smiling Milo.

"Yeah..."

"Holy smokes! Milo—gee, I feel like _such_ a total nincompoop now!" Heck, the man even put his hands up in mock surprise!

Trying his personal best not to roll his eyes, Milo chuckled a bit.

"Alright, how did ya know?"

"Well, uh, to be straight with ya, kid," Ernie began as he put his hands akimbo, "Bon and Hyunh already figured out you'd be pulling off some kind of prank. They'd just been waiting for ya to come out of hiding. It's been a while, though, so, like ya said, they've been getting worried. Heck, pretty much everybody's been worried about ya—and about Arnold and Gerald, too. But...I'm glad you're alright, kid."

To Ernie's shock, the robed child suddenly embraced him in a hug that encircled the tiny man's broad shoulders and sent him leaning back a bit due to the boy's strength. The shock wore off after a few moments, and Ernie, donning a soft, fatherly smile at the boy's action, reciprocated with a firm hug of his own.

A few long moments of contentment passed before the two males broke the hug off, although the warm smiles remained on their faces. Ernie, still feeling the love going on, slung a large arm over the kid's shoulders, walking him to the door so that the whole frantic search could finally come to an easy end.

"C'mon, let's get out of here so your mutha won't hafta tear the city in half."

Milo giggled good-naturedly at his uncle's semi-joke.

"Something tells me the 'alien invaders' already beat her to doing that. Just hope Arnold and Gerald are having fun."

"Speaking of which, kid, ya seen 'em anywhere?"

A finger went to Milo's chin as its owner recalled the previous few hours.

"Last time I checked, they were going up to the roof. They told me some of our classmates would help out with this prank the three of us had set up. They never showed up for some reason."

Ernie stopped right in his tracks, an action Milo hadn't noticed until a few seconds later. As a result, the boy had been a foot or two further ahead before he heard,

"Oops..."

_..._and froze right where he was, one foot raised in mid-step.

'_Oops? What was the 'oops' for?'_

"Say, uh, Milo..." For the first time that night, Ernie didn't sound nervous like before...he sounded...embarrassed...a bit ashamed even.

"Yes..." The robed child squinted his eyes a tad at the uncomfortable-looking adult, who pointed a finger at his costume.

"That costume wouldn't have anything to do with the, uh, aliens Gramps saw at the door...right?"

Milo only had two words in mind.

'_Uh oh...'_

"Ernie...you're talking in the past tense...," he took a step closer to the boarder. "What happened to them?"

At this point, Ernie twiddled his thumbs in slight mortification. "Uh...I might've...scared the living daylights out of 'em... heh..."

Without a moment to lose, the costumed duo—after Milo had grabbed the demolition worker's arm, of course—ran off in search of a certain football-head and his smooth-talking partner in crime.

'_Well this is another fine mess you've gotten us into, Arnold!'_


	15. Mai

**This part won't be so much **_**about **_**Milo—more like other characters **_**talking**_** about him.**

**Milo belongs to me. Mr. Hyunh and Mai belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

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><p><strong>Mai<strong>

"Father...?"

The voice, despite its softness, sounded loud in the silence of the downstairs hallways of the boardinghouse and thus made Mr. Hyunh jump a bit in surprise during his exit from the kitchen. His pupils quickly dilated in fright!

He relaxed, however, upon laying his eyes on his only daughter. She was wearing a light pink shirt, baggy, blue-and-purple vertical striped pants, and dark mauve slippers, and holding, much to her father's amused observation, an old, dark toffee colored teddy bear in her arms.

'_She still __**has**__ that little thing?'_ ran through his mind, but he put that thought off to the side.

"Mai...what are you doing up?" he asked curiously yet sternly, hands akimbo.

The addressed merely shrugged her delicate shoulders. "I only came down for a glass of water. What are _you_ doing up?"

Mai expected her father to return a joking retort, but confusion came to her when instead he looked away in another direction. After a few moments of disconcerting silence, her father finally spoke; his voice was solemn and careworn.

"Milo...he had bad dream." A sigh dominated the pause in between. "His mudda and I just finished talking to him."

The young woman gasped lightly at hearing the phrase "bad dream." Her thin eyebrows knitted in deep concern as she tilted her head then asked, "Is he alright now?"

Hyunh nodded compliantly.

"Yes, he is fine, just fine...but his nightmare...made me think..." With a deep sigh, the aged Vietnamese man, crossing his arms loosely, seated himself down on the hallway floor, his daughter following suit, never taking her eyes off him.

"It made me think of how attached I have become to the boy." Hyunh shook his head to rid himself of any lingering hesitation before continuing. "I am sorry, Mai, but I cannot stop thinking of Milo as...my own son."

Mai's brows furrowed, the young woman seemingly unsure of how to react to this admittance.

"Please understand!" her father, hands raised defensively, added hastily. "I never want to replace you or your mudda. It is just...," his gaze drew away from her once more. "I was always there for him, like father he was supposed to have...I was always there for him and Bonnie...now...? Now I have the chance to be father again. I have the chance to raise a child..." His earthy eyes softened and slightly glittered.

"... just like I had the chance to raise you..."

But then another deep sigh escaped him. _'Yet what if history repeats itself?' _"But I also don't want to lose him...not the way I lost you."

This time, Mai took the opportunity to shake _her _head. She wasn't about to let her father beat himself up like that. She placed a delicate hand on his broad shoulder.

"You did what you thought what was best for me...and what you did _was_ best for me. You never actually lost me. You only let me go because you love me so much. I can't blame you for that." Mai smiled understandingly in mid-pause. "Even if I had the right to, I wouldn't want to, either." _'I never would.'_

Hyunh nodded, thankful he hadn't upset one of his children...until he saw Mai develop a brooding frown then look down and away from him.

'_Still...' _"But to be honest...I'm a little jealous. Milo gets to have you for as long as he stays a kid...at best I barely have even faint memories of you."

Indeed, in spite of how close to and fond of Milo she was, the young adult couldn't help the occasional pang of envy...envy in that the boy practically had the childhood _she_ had originally been promised.

Loving parents, a house full of sweet-hearted people (although she really was trying hard not to exclude that somewhat bothersome Kokoschka man), and, even more, a friendly neighborhood full of kind-hearted, if a tad bit eccentric, people...

Sometimes she wondered if Milo even realized how lucky he was to have the life he led.

And what did Mai have for a childhood in contrast?

Being bounced around from home to home, contrasting from considerate care to full-scale neglect...

Granted, thankfully she never got to experience physical abuse...unfortunately the neglect from adults and emotional tirades from other children proved effectively intolerable substitutes. She couldn't say her life had been a living nightmare. On the other hand...it was certainly never a cakewalk either.

'_I know I shouldn't be letting Milo's life get to me...but, somehow, it just does. There is one other thing I know, though: Milo deserves to have a father like mine. He has such a good heart deep down.'_

A warm, strong hand on her left shoulder suddenly brought Mai out of her emotionally shifting reverie and back to her father, who, with a wise, paternal smile, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. His wider head came to rest on top of her beautiful, wavy, midnight hair. A blissful sigh escaped Mai's lips as the young Asian woman snuggled her head into the nook of her father's neck.

"Oh, my dear daughter," whispered the man sweetly, "you and Milo are _both_ my children. I do not care how long I was in either of your lives...not anymore. Even if Milo was born from a different father and you were raised by a different family..."

Mr. Hyunh halted in mid-sentence to give his offspring a deep, piercing gaze into her eyes—brown into brown.

"I still love you both very, very much."

Mai tilted her head in confusion, remembering certain words of wisdom. "But what about love needing roots?"

Hyunh nodded solemnly. "I admit. That is still my belief...but I used that to hide from the people I love. My greatest fear was rejection...but Bonnie and Milo proved me wrong. I do not need to be so scared anymore. So...even if caring is just a part of love, I want to care about both you _and_ Milo."

To these words, Mai parted her lips to gasp...a smile dominated her face instead, the emotion behind it driving her to suddenly snatch the man's large waist in a warm embrace. Yiang Hyunh stayed in surprise for only one second, arms extended out awkwardly, before he returned the embrace, his thick arms pressing his child into his body as snugly as a toddler keeps a teddy bear close.

After what felt like an eternity, the father and the daughter released each other, the former draping an arm around the girl leading her into the direction of the kitchen. Neither of their smiles waned anymore.

"Now, let's check on your brother, shall we? Seeing you might cheer him up."

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><p><strong>I've allowed this story to linger for far too long. <strong>


	16. Gertie (aka Pookie)

**Only Milo belongs to me. Everyone else belongs to Craig and Nick.**

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><p><strong>Gertie (a.k.a. Pookie)<strong>

"Ah Private, there you are! Got any news from Kimba about the frontline?" Right in front of the stove stood none other than Arnold's Grandma, Gertie, dressed out and even decorated like an actual army officer. Her erect posture, serious countenance, and gloved hands set akimbo suggested that playing along would be the smartest course of action...not that a certain seven-year old minded. The oddly dressed senior marched right up to the tinier person and administered a crisp salute.

Milo knew the drill (pun intended); still standing in the doorway of the kitchen—same location as when Gertie caught sight of him (the boy had come looking for leftover food for an upcoming field trip)—he saluted the elderly general back, barking out, "Yes, ma'am! Kimba is currently in a dilemma in which he may require our assistance, ma'am!"

General Gertie hummed to herself and put a hand to her chin, deep in thought, her face reflective and pondering in expression, before replying, "Is that so? And what, pray tell, would that dilemma be, Private?"

Milo couldn't help but giggle a little before continuing on. He was having far too much fun with this role-play. "Well, ma'am, Kimba reports a lack of means of assuring negotiations with Miss Eleanor due to interference from the Red Baron as we speak!"

At this "unsatisfactory" report, the general gritted her teeth (well, her remaining teeth) and balled her hands into fists in clear frustration. The plan was not going well—not one bit! "Blasted Baron! We need Kimba and the First Lady to rendezvous on the double! Otherwise, we'll never get Operation: Kiss and Make-Up off the ground."

At these words, curiosity griped Milo's mind, inciting the young boy to raise an eyebrow at his grandma in interest. Said interest only intensified as Gertie bent down onto one knee so she could more easily look Milo in the eyes. "Private...can I trust you to deal with the Baron face-to-face? Keep ya wits about yourself! That darn, dirty scoundrel is a crafty one."

A final salute from Milo indicated all General Gertie needed to hear. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

The "officer" grinned proudly at her young ward and reciprocated the salute, punctuating it with, "Then move out!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Milo exclaimed as he sharply shot his hand back to his side, performed a crisp roundabout turn, and marched out of the entrance then up the stairs. Only when the he'd reached his destination—the top step—did Milo allow the hilarity of the situation to influence him. First one was the tremors in his chest, second, the snorting sounds form his throat and nose, the cherry on top becoming the explosive burst of spittle and laughter as the kid fell to the ground in hysterics! All the guffawing continued for so long, the poor boy had to hold his sides as if for dear life—they were starting to strain and hurt so fiercely from all the mirth.

Honestly, the chance to tease and embarrass Arnold, Hillwood's golden boy, the do-gooder of P.S. 118, the stable rock—nay, mountain of this boardinghouse, by catching his blushing self and a certain other blonde in the middle of "damage control"...? Who could really blame the tyke for entertaining such a thought?

'_Oh Arnold, you are so fun to tease!'_


	17. Suzie

**How many times do I have to say this? I do not own Hey Arnold, just Milo and Bonnie. By the by, I'm ending this series at some point soon. I don't want to leave everybody unprepared like I did with "The Life and Times of Mr. Hyunh."**

* * *

><p><strong>Suzie<strong>

"Milo, we need to talk."

_'Wait...talk about what?'_ Pausing in mid draw, Milo looked up only to discover a stern-looking Suzie staring down at him with her arms crossed. _'Did I do something wrong?'_

The ebony-haired child's expression did not remain unnoticed because Suzie quickly added in a reassuring tone, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. It's...more about how you've been carrying yourself for a while."

The blonde aunt took a seat next to the child at the front of the boardinghouse's dining table. "It's the way you act around people. Bonnie, me, and the others have been getting worried because of it."

_'Okay, now I __**really**__ don't understand.'_ Milo put his sketchbook on the table and faced Suzie again with an inquisitive stare. "I'm friendly to everybody in the boardinghouse. I do what I'm told. I never listen to Uncle Oscar. I don't even join the guys when they do bets (_which are __**really**__ fun to watch from afar,_ he mentally added)."

Suzie giggled at the part about Oscar, but her seriousness did not wane. "Actually, Milo, I meant you're not _sociable_. You never say anything to anyone besides Bonnie, Mr. Hyunh, or Arnold. Especially outside—you always keep quiet unless you're answering to someone older than you."

Well, okay, those observations _were _kind of accurate. _'I do keep to myself a lot unless Arnold is with me. But I don't see how that's a problem.'_

"And you always end up getting defensive whenever someone your age or one of Arnold's little friends talks to you...," Suzie continued in a worried, motherly tone, "almost as if you think they want to hurt you."

Both eyebrows shot up on the boy's forehead, Milo's eyes growing wide! Did he really _have_ such a habit? Milo shot Suzie a look of pure disbelief, his stare asking whether what she'd just said was true. Suzie nodded with sympathy in her eyes.

Wow...Milo shook his head as he let this information sink in. By nature, he wasn't as reclusive as he seemed; he simply didn't like rocking the boat—much anyway...yet if Suzie spoke the truth...

"I don't really know why I do it, to be honest," Milo shrugged his shoulders, having no other way to put his preference into words, "I know that Mom always warns me that trust is a hard thing to come by in this world."

_'And you misinterpreted that,'_ Suzie finished in disappoint-filled thought, although her feelings were directed not to Milo but to his mother instead. _'Oh Bonnie, you should better than to just say stuff like that to children without explaining first!'_

As if in sync with the older woman's thoughts, Milo continued, notably without haste, "Mom wants me to be ready for the world when I'm older, but sometimes I wonder if she forgets I'm just a kid. I got a theory: maybe she had to grow up early as a kid—and I mean really early— so she didn't get to have a childhood like me."

Shockingly, Milo hit the nail right on the head. Having known his mother for years, Suzie couldn't deny that Bonnie could be hardcore at times, a part of the Tahitian's personality that seemed to inhibit any sense of fun whatsoever. In fact, the blonde winced little at some of her memories of how she and Arnold's mother, Stella, literally had to drag the woman out the door for a girls' all night out, Bonnie violently insisting, "I don't need fun, you two, damn it! I need to get those stupid bills out of the way!"

Thank God that Diego came into her life, and that Mr. Hyunh intended to continue what his departed friend started. Bonnie made leaps and bounds in learning to relax since meeting those men. Unfortunately, based on Milo's words, some aspects about a person never change.

The child next to her wasn't done yet, though. "I get what she says. I just don't think it's the only viewpoint that makes sense. People can let you down, but you let down the people who want to help you when you shove them away from you." Milo raised his emerald eyes to Suzie. "Did Mom do that a lot before she had me?"

Suzie gave no answer at first. She was too spellbound by the precocity of this seven-year old. Here she'd been, worried that Bonnie's old ways would repeat history...instead her own son defied them by countering them with wisdom beyond his years. He truly was Diego's son.

"She did," the blonde affirmed, nodding. She returned the smile she saw on Milo's face. "Trusting someone comes hard for her."

"Makes ya glad she's got goofs like me to make her smile, huh?" His smile waned a little. "But I guess _I _keep to myself because I'm worried people won't like my sense of creativity."

"Oh Milo," Suzie lightly gasped with her hands to her heart. How could Milo think that? "You have a great sense of creativity! You just need to find the right people who'll appreciate it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive!"

As Milo looked down in thought, his mind tumbled over Suzie's words, their meaning becoming clearer in no time. Slowly but surely, Milo nodded with more and more hope. Yeah...Yeah, of course, he just had to look! People usually don't bite as long as you treat them right.

Besides, dancing in imagination yourself _did_ get a little boring sometimes.

* * *

><p><strong>Am I losing my touch with my writing? I'd really like know because I haven't been feeling confident about my stories lately.<strong>


	18. Gerald

**I should be so ashamed of myself! Arnold had the first chapter, but I do Gerald more than a year later? Feel free to shower me with tomatoes. **

**Once again, I only own Milo—intellectually speaking, of course.**

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><p><strong>Gerald<strong>

"Then you just rear back—keep that elbow straight now—and just throw! You got it, kid?"

"Got it," Milo replied in a bored, flat tone of voice. He was doing the same motions as Gerald. His expression, however, displayed not even the slightest trace of interest. He appeared more like he would have preferred watching paint dry over this baseball practice.

_'Scratch that—he'd rather be doing his little doodles.'_ Gerald rolled his eyes in exasperation at the younger kid's attitude. _'I guess living under the same roof as Arnold doesn't guarantee his optimism will rub off on ya. I can't tell whether this kid is bored...or just ignorin' me. Probably both...'_

The Keeper of the Tales wouldn't put the last part past Arnold's unofficial stepbrother. His oblong-headed best friend had brought the squirt to Gerald Field twenty minutes ago. Naturally, there came about inquiries concerning the identity of the unknown face, only to be followed by moans and cries of protest after Arnold explained his daily duty: the task of babysitting Milo. In consideration, Arnold, already used to the antics and the snarky attitude of his wayward sibling, hardly displayed vexation at the idea of the little kid hanging out with him and his friends.

His teammates were another story. A certain Bubba in particular...Then again, Harold _always_ rose up a fuss over something. Stinky and Sid, being the followers they were, followed his lead, although with less conviction. The others, to varying degrees, either kept their opinion to themselves, like in the case of Sheena and Phoebe, or rolled their eyes and griped, like in Helga's case.

And what about Gerald, one might ask? Well, on one hand, he found the boy's near silence to be disconcerting at first. In fact, Gerald mistakenly believed at first that the boy was either deaf or mute. He knew better now—_much _better. _'I just hope my man __**Arnold**__ knew what he was doing by bringing this kid here...because I doubt Milo wants to keep doing this sport any longer.'_

On the other hand—

"Aw, look they got another baby on their team!" a deeper, bullish voice suddenly sneered in the distance. Everyone on Gerald Field, the namesake and Milo included, swiveled their heads in the direction the voice originated. Gerald, like most of his teammates, scowled instantly at the people who stood on the sidewalk just beside the field.

Wolfgang.

And his regular band of muscle-bound nitwits.

"Aw, hey little guy," Edmund, Wolfgang's second banana, cooed to Milo in a sickly sweet tone, bending down as if the younger boy were an infant, "Where's your mommy?" Wolfgang and the rest of their gang either threw their heads back or doubled over, guffawing with approval at the jab.

Milo was not impressed. Besides, to say the insult annoyed him even slightly would have been a lie; he'd heard far worse in the boardinghouse. He _did_, however, smile a little, the first time Gerald had actually seen a different expression on the kid's face besides ennui and annoyance.

The African-American tale-keeper raised an eyebrow in confusion. _'I wonder what he's smiling about.'_

His confusion only grew when Milo, one hand on the end of the baseball bat, which the boy leaned on as if it were a cane, pointed a finger skyward with his other hand, and simply said, "Heads up."

**BONK!**

Out like a light thanks to the ball that suddenly collided with the top of his head, Wolfgang, in a delirious daze and with a more delirious expression, fell flat on his face with a ground-shaking thud, his cronies immediately torn between helping their leader...or getting the heck out of dodge before anymore errant balls could literally fall on them from right out of the clear, blue sky.

Only Edmund, too terrified to move even while his peers managed to carry Wolfgang off in haste, remained where he stood, staring at Milo as the boy were a ghost. The kid's eerily calm half-smile only worsened his anxiety.

"Uh, y-you know what, never mind what I said before!" Edmund stuttered, backing up all the while. "Heh, we're sorry that we interrupted you guys! Later!"

And just like the Roadrunner, Edmund dashed out of sight. Gerald stared blankly at the spot where the older boy had once been for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to Milo.

"When did you—"

The younger boy shook his head, pointing a thumb to something behind him, his tone cool and unconcerned. "I didn't. Arnold did."

Sure enough, when Gerald looked back where his friend was, he could see a blushing Arnold waving back at them, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck out of sheepishness.

_'Mm, mm, I should've known,_' Gerald mused. Dangerous Lumber struck again. "Although I have to admit, his DL had some nice aim this time. But how did you know where it'd land?"

To Gerald's wonder, Milo merely shrugged his shoulders, a sly smirk on his face. "I figured Wolfgang's thick skull would be the place where Karma wanted it to end up. Does my heart good to know I was right."

Huh, maybe he could get to like this kid, after all. In a daring move of camaraderie, just to cement his budding respect for the kid, Gerald stuck out his hand with the thumb sticking up—his and Arnold's special handshake.

"You know, man, you're pretty cool—in an out there kind of way, I mean."

To the older boy's satisfaction, Milo returned the gesture perfectly. Looks like morals weren't the _only_ things Arnold taught his little brother.

"You're pretty cool, too, Gerald—in a retro, geeky kind of way I mean."

* * *

><p><strong>Correction, Milo: Karma and the author. Why do I love smacking Wolfgang silly with Dangerous Lumber, by the way? <strong>


	19. Big Bob Pataki

**Ugh, I knew I'd have to deal with this guy at some point. Oh well...I only own Milo. Everyone else belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

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><p><strong>Big Bob Pataki<strong>

_Why in the world can't I read that kid?_

_How the heck is he ever gonna go anywhere if he keeps quiet all the time?_

_Sure it ain't a problem now, but what about when he's older? I mean you can't hold a job if you never say anything!_

* * *

><p>All of these details the Beeper King remembered. He'd thought them up the first time Helga brought Milo over.<p>

In all honesty, Bob couldn't see what was so special about the kid at first. All he did was being quiet and drawing. Since when do boys draw anyway?

But no matter how much criticism he tossed the boy's way, Milo took it all with a grain of salt, just like Helga—and that's considering the boy bothered to listen anyway. Bob didn't understand anyway; weren't kids supposed to be impressionable or something? _'Criminy, he's just as damn stubborn as his mother.'_

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Helga open the door to reveal Milo on the other side, the smaller child holding his usual sketchbook under his left arm. The Beeper King raised an eyebrow at the teasing he heard in his daughter's tone of voice when she greeted her friend. She never acted that way with her family.

"And just where do ya think you're goin', little lady?"

When his child looked back at him, her normal frown was back in place, complete with a cold, deadpan stare. "It's called going outside, Bob; it's a new idea. You might wanna try it sometime."

_'Why I oughta...'_ But Bob restrained himself, a rare feat for someone as temperamental as him. He knew he'd have to resort to more than just angry ranting to prevent his pride from crumbling at the hands of a child, even his own. Unfortunately, Helga never failed to infuriate her old man with her rebel attitude. What got under Bob's skin even more, though, was how Milo looked off to the side with a bored expression, as if the mighty Beeper King was nothing beyond being a small obstacle.

_Don't get in our way._

That's what Big Bob Pataki heard in his mind.

"And when the hell are ya gettin' back? Your sister Olga's cooking tonight and ya better not even think of missing out on it!"

Helga rolled her eyes at the threat. "Oh yeah, don't worry, _Dad_. I know how utterlyimportant hearing you and Miriam compliment your perfect child is for the sake of the freaking universe."

Yeah, about Bob's restraint—he could already feel it slipping. The hefty man final shot up from his chair and eyed Helga with a haughty glare. "That's it! One more word outta you, Olga—"

"Helga."

Both Patakis shot looks of disbelief at Milo. Neither of them expected him to interrupt, let alone for the blonde's sake. Well, actually Helga sort of expected her little brother-figure to have a snarky comment sneaking around in his head somewhere, but she honestly thought he'd take smart route by keeping his mouth shut._ 'Besides, Helga G. Pataki can fight her own battles, even if the chump doing it has got good intentions for doing it.'_

She really felt like clamping a hand over Sparky's mouth right now...and telling him to keep his trap shut, too.

Big Bob, on the other hand...Big Bob had nothing to say. Out of all the people he would've expected to correct him, he would have anticipated Helga, Bonnie Mahana, that annoying kid Arnie, or Arnie's old geezer to have done that. So to be corrected so simply by someone whose height can barely reach Helga's chest astounded the businessman more than any of his company rivals ever could.

"That's her name, isn't it? I've been more over 40 times already and yet I've never heard you never call her by that. Seriously, I can understand nicknames, but she's almost ten and you can't even call her by the name you gave her in the first place? That's just sad." Ignoring the stare of utter mortification on Bob's face, Milo turned to Helga with a casual grin as if he hadn't just verbally owned an adult.

"Anyway, what were you saying we were going, Helga?"

At first, Helga blinked at him blankly like she hadn't heard him right. However, as she continued to mull over her little brother's response to her battle-ax of a father, a genuine smile returned to her face, even though she chose to hide it as a playful smirk. Placing her hands akimbo, she nodded her head to the outdoors.

"I was saying that Pheebs is waiting for us down at the library. So let's move it already, Sparky!"

Milo shot the blonde a bright, eager grin and a hearty thumbs-up. "Let's bounce then."

Unfortunately, by the time Bob's mental coherence returned to him, Helga and Milo were long gone, the door closer once more. He looked down in a rare moment of shame.

* * *

><p><em>Ya gotta understand: I don't think the kid's bad. Heck, with someone like Arnie as his brother, he's gotta have a good head on him, right?<em>

_Wouldn't surprise me even if the two weren't related—Milo's would still be a chip off the old block either way. I'd known the boy's mom ever since we ran into each other during her hotshot career as a racecar driver. She was always the hardcore kind of lady. You bet she never let some guy boss her around!_

_'Cept the next time I saw her, I felt like...well like the woman me and Miriam used to know was falling apart. _

_I mean, yeah, that should've been obvious, at least. I mean, sheesh, she just lost Diego! It had to feel to her like the whole stinkin' world was falling apart! So from that point on, she just kept away from everybody. It was just so unlike from she was during her racecar days. _

_Yeah, she's gotten better over the years, but I still see her sometimes around the neighborhood and sometimes I can still catch that sad, scared look in her eyes. She hides it pretty darn well, but she ain't fooling everybody. But I noticed something else: whenever that Hyunh guy was near her, she seemed even more closed up than before. It doesn't help that that guy didn't even say a word to her at the Parents' Day Tournament...uh, not that I'm one to talk that is._

_Anyway, Helga hanging around Bonnie and Diego's kid has been making me think. If Helga's opening up so much to that kid and whispering behind our backs how she likes hanging out with him and his patchwork folks at the ancient boardinghouse..._

_What if...what if that Hyunh guy's not the bad guy, after all? Maybe he's just scared stiff as his new family is about the future? Is he scared he might blow being a good dad?_

_As much I'd rather not admit this, I ain't no expert when it comes to being a parent...cuz for better or worse, I'd definitely assure the guy this: he'd do a hell lot better job than me._

* * *

><p><strong>Ugh, not enough Milo here, and I swear I made Big Bob too sympathetic in the end.<strong>


	20. Heirani

**There's going to be a little fun this time. No, this will not be a mere copy of the episode. I'm going to mix this chapter up a little instead. **

**For the record, this scene takes place about a year and two months after "Summer Love", eleven months after the final chapter of "The Life and Times of Mr. Hyunh", and ten months after this story's "Mr. Hyunh" chapter. That means Arnold and the gang from school, Milo included, are headed for sixth grade, both the first movie and the Jungle Movie already happened (even though Arnold hasn't left yet), and Milo is almost nine years old. **

**Milo, Bonnie, and Heirani belong to me. Everyone else belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

><p><strong>Heirani<strong>

Phew, what a vacation!

First, that hag from last year, Summer, tried to take Arnold away from Helga as her own lame way of revenge...only to once again end up on the receiving end of total, public humiliation...

Second, Arnold and his friends had to stop a mentally unstable Scheck from turning the beach into another mega-mall...succeeding to not only foil his plans once again but also finally landing the guy in the loony bin for good.

Oh, and third, Heirani, along with her father, somehow ended up in the middle of a ridiculous environmental conspiracy...which she miraculously uprooted just by unknowingly mistaking a crucial component to a machine for her teddy's pacifier—or "wa-wa" as she called it. Mr. Hyunh _still_ couldn't believe how he and his daughter got caught up in such a crazy mess in the first place. They'd only been looking for the parent-child yoga class for crying out loud!

Thankfully, the whole gang managed to come out of all these fixes in one piece...and, boy, would they have memories of these misadventures for years to come!

From his spot on the porch, Milo spotted his parents walking down the shoreline hand in hand, Mr. Hyunh whispering something that made Bonnie blush and giggle, unusual actions for someone as no-nonsense as her. Fading sunlight painted the scene with fiery tangerine as the deeply blue ocean waves serenely lapped the shore, the cool water licking the couple's feet.

"Mm, mm, mm, those two; I'll give your folks this, Milo my man. They are one interesting couple."The young artist didn't need to turn around to know who just sat down beside him. Hearing the sound of Phoebe slipping a bookmark into her textbook clued him in enough.

_'Tell me about it,' _Milo thought in wonder. He still couldn't believe his mother and new stepfather just had a baby. Or that he was now a big brother. It only seemed like yesterday Milo's dream of having a real father finally became a reality.

Speaking of dreams coming true, Milo stole a look at Gerald and Phoebe, who were too busy flirting to notice his staring at them. He liked to think of himself as more in tune with the "flow of romance" than his fellow men, and quite honestly he saw these two getting together from day one. Therefore, the problem for Milo had been resisting the urge to beat his head against something anytime he stole a look at the utter slowness and over-subtlety of his mild-mannered friends.

_'I can get why Helga got so impatient with these two getting together.' _

As the artist watched, Gerald noticed Phoebe bemusedly shaking her head with a smile. The Keeper of the Tales threw his hands up in playful exasperation. "Don't tell me, babe. I said that about thirty times already, didn't I?"

"Actually, only about twenty-five times, but I might have lost count at around fifteen," the young girl cheekily responded as she readjusted her glasses. "Your reason for the high repetition is quite understandable, however. Mr. and Mrs. Mahana are rather charming as a couple, aren't they?"

_'Kind of like a certain other pair around here...'_ Gerald mused with a sly smile Phoebe returned. In seconds, everything and everyone else no longer existed. The whole world had melted away to make room for just the two of them...only them...Gerald found himself leaning in...Phoebe followed suit...

They would've gone much further if Milo hadn't slapped his sketchbook shut loudly enough to snap them back to reality. Blushing madly, Gerald and Phoebe jumped at the noise and shot mortified looks to the person whose presence they'd just forgotten so easily.

"If all you two are gonna do is go gaga over each other, then there's a nice secluded cove just west from here. Feel free to use that to your advantage."

When they heard _that_ suggestive little quip, Phoebe and Gerald blushed furiously and smartly separated, trying to ignore Milo's smirk.

"Seriously, you two get a room!" he jabbed, though not unkindly. "At least when Arnold and Helga do it, they do it where no one can see them."

"That's because the way they show love would make even Phil and Gertie gag," a snarky woman's voice commented. Milo looked up to see none other than his parents, Bonnie's amused expression matching his own and Hyunh chuckling underneath his breath. She offered her free hand to her son to help him up. Milo gladly took it.

"C'mon, I think your little sis is waiting for her dinnertime."

Phoebe and Milo shared a look of surprise at Bonnie's statement. Not Gerald, though—he could remember his baby sister Timberly being the same way as a baby. He still had recurrent nightmares of the kid reverting to that age and eating the Johanssen family out of house and home.

"But dinner isn't until six, Mom. It's barely past four."

Bonnie scoffed in good nature. She pointed a finger at the wooden house, from where both an infant's boisterous wailing and a familiar blonde's grunts and growls of frustration could be heard...and if you listened hard enough, you could barely catch the mild voice of another equally familiar blonde, too. "Try telling _her_ that."

When the sounds of something breaking and someone grumbling to hide an unsavory swear word echoed out from inside, Gerald shook his head out of sympathy for Helga. Getting stuck with babysitting certainly hadn't been part of the girl's summer fun plans. She had Arnold to thank for that.

_'That boy and his do-gooder personality...'_ He shot a curious gaze to Bonnie after thinking back on the woman's words. "To the baby or Helga, you mean?"

Mr. Hyunh replied this time before ushering everyone inside. "The baby, but that was good question...Now let's hurry inside before Oscar eats everything!"

Phoebe looked to the older man in confusion. "But, Mr. Mahana, Arnold's grandmother hasn't even begun making dinner yet, so I doubt Mr. Kokoschka will want to eat the food before it's been prepared."

"Believe me, sweetie," Bonnie answered for her husband, overhearing the brainiac's question, as everyone filed into the house. She rolled her aquamarine eyes in stark annoyance, even though Phoebe knew it wasn't meant for her. "It'll take more than _that_ to keep that scumbag's hands off the food."

Phoebe meekly nodded and said nothing more. Like Milo, she knew better than to go against Mrs. Mahana, especially when the Polynesian woman had a point to begin with. Besides, Bonnie could be very...ahem, "persuasive." All male attendants of the Sunset Arms could attest that truth. Phoebe knew, though, that Bonnie only acted so headstrong because she preferred to stay on top of things...and with a starry-eyed child and a bashful, eccentric husband and an unpredictable, energetic baby for a family, such a preference seriously helped.

Speaking of family (and energetic babies for that matter), the newest addition to the Mahana clan came dashing towards the group, clad only in a clean diaper and laughing her cute little butt off with an incensed Helga closely tailing her, the baby's speed enough to drive even the physically fit preteen to exhaustion. Panting for air, Helga stopped in her tracks once she noticed the others standing in the doorway.

Meanwhile, the baby dashed into her mother's outstretched arms. She squealed in delight once she felt her father's thick fingers tickling her chin. Someone had been a very naughty cherub and she didn't care one bit.

"C...C...Criminy, Bonnie," Helga barely managed to huff out, "your kid's gonna give track teams a run for their money one day...literally."

The baby merely giggled and beamed as if getting Helga pooped out were a major accomplishment. At her age, it probably was.

Bonnie chuckled at the silliness, a little disappointed that she and the others just missed some serious material for a family blooper movie. "I see Heirani proved to be a handful for you and Arnold. By the way, where _is _Arnold anyway?"

As if on cue, sudden scuffling noises and yelps could be heard coming from upstairs. Everyone, Heirani included, looked up in confusion...just in time to see Arnold falling down the steps in an obnoxiously yellow chicken suit. Thankfully, the costume's bulk saved his body from severe injury. The same couldn't be said for his pride, unfortunately.

"AAAAHHH, OOF!"

His peers dashed to his side the instant he landed, Helga being the first to reach him. She pried off the head of the costume, and with tender care examined her beloved features for bruises and any other marks. "Arnold! Geez, are you alright?!"

"Ugh," Arnold sat up then reached a hand behind his head to nurse a bump, "I think so. Can you promise me something, though, Helga?"—he continued after seeing his girlfriend nod attentively—"Please, _please_, never make me dress up like this again."

_'He's kidding right?'_ Helga thought with ease as she slipped back into her usual, confident self. Hands akimbo, she stood up and eyed her beloved with eyes full of amusement. "Hey now, Arnoldo, _you're _the one who suggested using one of Phil's old animal costumes to calm the squirt down. Why, I don't ever want to know, Football Head."

Milo let out a snort at the scene. Looking back to his baby sister, who clung to Bonnie's neck even as she observed the same scene with confusion at what everyone was saying, he tossed her a teasing grin as he thumbed back to his friends.

"See, Heirani, this is your family...and welcome to it."

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, these folks have really crazy lives...and that's just how they love them!<strong>


End file.
